


Other People

by infinitestarsintheskye



Series: FitzSimmons Normal People AU [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Blood, Brief Discussion of Body Image, Depression, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fitz POV, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Panic Attacks, Secret Relationship, Smoking, Therapy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, based on academy era fs, brief mention of bdsm, brief mention of drug use, depiction of groping/unwanted sexual harrassment, i said i wasn't gonna write this i know, mention of emotional abuse, mention of suicide, mentions of domestic abuse, normal people au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 80,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26193436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinitestarsintheskye/pseuds/infinitestarsintheskye
Summary: A Normal People AUJemma Simmons and Leo Fitz couldn’t be further apart in their school’s social circles. Everyone knows that he’s quiet but well liked, and she’s an intelligent, snarky loner. But away from the prying eyes of their peers, the two cannot ignore the draw they feel towards the other.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Series: FitzSimmons Normal People AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108307
Comments: 150
Kudos: 74
Collections: AOS AU August 2020





	1. Beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> I know. I said I wasn’t gonna write this, but my brain wouldn’t shut up about it, so here we are. This fic covers most of the first episode and that’s where I’m going to leave it, cause it gets distinctly NSFW after that and I just, I cannot write smut (true kudos to those of you who do it so well and so beautifully), and I wouldn’t want my first try to be something as truly emotionally complicated and intimate and just powerful as the scenes on that show. If anyone else fancies continuing this, and writing those scenes, please be my guest, I would LOVE to see a fs take on some of those scenes. This fic is honestly just an exercise in getting something out of my system, haha. It’s definitely different from my normal narrative style, but it was fun to try something new out like that. The whole mood and vibe of that show is very soft and gentle and quite quiet, even when it is big dramatic moments and I tried my very best to convey that through the narrative style. I just couldn’t help but see the similarities between these two pairs of people, Connell and Marianne and Fitz and Simmons, both very intelligent young people who are terrible at communicating with each other, who have their fair share of ups and downs, but who have each other as a constant through it all, and I just itched to read it and since no one else was going to do it, I did it myself haha. Anyway, enough of my usual yabbering, enjoy!

_…we have done so much good for one another_

He always felt odd driving up here, despite the fact that he’d done it more times than he could count in the year he’d had his driving licence. The long winding drive in the middle of nowhere just felt intimidating. He always just felt like he was intruding, like he was distinctly out of place. Fitz gave his head a shake as the car bumped and jittered over the cobbled and uneven driveway. The house at the end of the drive was no less intimidating, large and white, its very presence daunting as he pulled up in his tiny, battered little car. The whole place, the façade itself, the grounds, the door handle even was pristine. Fitz hated even touching it, but it was a necessary evil as he pushed open the large white front door. He’d been here so often he knew they didn’t mind him just coming in now. The inside of the house was similarly immaculate. Fitz hated it. It felt alien, unlived in, unloved. Everything was white and steel and clean lines. He wasn’t even sure he’d seen a family photograph anywhere. But that was obviously how Mrs Simmons liked it.

He’d only met Mrs Simmons on a couple of occasions, but the house reflected the woman, cold and unwavering. She’d been very clipped with him. Clearly she hadn’t thought much of him, he was only the cleaner’s son. His mum usually finished up in the kitchen so he wandered through the large empty hallway, through the tall entryway that led into the similarly stark kitchen.

His mum wasn’t there but he wasn’t surprised to see a figure sat on the large island, eating ice cream straight from the tub. Jemma Simmons. She was in his year at school. Didn’t talk to anyone, but Fitz knew she was really smart, smarter than the teachers gave her credit for. Everyone thought she was a bit weird. Fitz had wondered sometimes if they were right. The thought flew across his mind again as he noticed her sitting there, still in her school uniform, the pleats of her skirt splayed across the dark counter, her hair pulled back neatly into a long French plait. She was unperturbed to see him, her eyes floating over him as she dug the spoon back into the tub in her hands. Jemma had gotten used to him, he supposed, as he had gotten used to her. His mum had had this job for a while now and running into Jemma Simmons three times a week when he went to pick her up after school was just what came with it. They talked sometimes, whilst he waited for his mum to finish up. That was how he knew how smart she really was. How he knew that the whispers that followed Jemma around the corridors at school were wrong. There was something different about her, but he wouldn’t call that a bad thing. She was quiet, most of the time. So was he, but he just hung around with people louder than him, and for some reason that made it better than Jemma being alone and quiet. Jemma was unashamed. As much as she _was_ quiet for the most part, she wouldn’t hesitate to speak back to a teacher or to call someone who was teasing her a dick. Fitz quite admired that part of her, the part that allowed her to speak her mind without caring what anyone else thought. He sometimes wondered if he cared too much what other people thought of him. He kept his feelings to himself for the most part, knowing that his friends wouldn’t listen or even care much. That didn’t seem to matter so much whenever he talked to Jemma. In those small moments of waiting around, somehow she seemed to put him at ease, and he said what he thought more around her, how he felt really. Jemma gazed at him as she took another mouthful of ice cream, her brown eyes trained on him as she finally let the spoon clatter against the rim of the tub.

“Your mum’s just finishing something upstairs. She’ll be down in a minute.” She said softly.

“Right.” He mumbled back.

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, Fitz swinging on his heels, his fingers toying with his car keys. Just as Fitz opened his mouth to say something, his mum appeared at the entryway, brandishing a cloth.

“Leo honey! I didn’t hear you come in!” Lorna Fitz smiled kindly.

“Hi mum, you ready to go?”

“Not quite, one more thing to do and then we can be off! Jemma was saying you got your mock exam results back today?” Lorna asked brightly.

“Nah just English. They all come back separately.” He replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Lorna gave Fitz a look he long recognised. It was usually followed by a now familiar speech about being proud of his achievements and what he could do.

“I hear you did very well.” Lorna said, her eyes flitting from Fitz to Jemma.

Fitz turned his gaze towards Jemma who had now turned her gaze downwards towards her ice cream, almost as if she didn’t want to disturb.

“He did.” She said quietly, fiddling with her spoon, her eyes fixed downwards.

He felt warmth fill his cheeks. He didn’t do very well with compliments of any kind.

“Well, Jemma did very well too.” He quipped back.

It almost felt like a defence. He didn’t like talking about himself. Bragging about his achievements, even in a mock exam, he just couldn’t do it. It wasn’t him.

“Can we go?” He asked, almost pained.

“Didn’t realise we were in such a rush. As I said, just one more thing and I’ll be right down.” Lorna smiled, rolling her eyes playfully, before disappearing again.

Fitz turned back to look at Jemma as he heard his mum’s retreating footsteps. She’d crossed her ankles as she was swinging her feet but stopped when she saw him looking.

“Didn’t you get Physics back today?” She asked, pawing at her ice cream with her spoon again.

“Yesterday.” He corrected, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Got an A.” He said quietly.

At this she looked up at him. It wasn’t surprised, or impressed, the look on her face. Fitz couldn’t quite work it out.

“What’d you get in Biology?” He asked, deflecting again.

Her eyes bore into him as he spoke. It didn’t feel like an intrusion. He liked it when she looked at him.

“Are you bragging?” Jemma quipped with a wry smile.

Fitz huffed out a laugh. She knew him better than that. 

“Got an A too.”

“Gonna get straight A’s, are you?” He smiled back.

“You probably will.” She fired back.

“Well you’re smarter than me so…”

“I’m smarter than everyone.” She scoffed.

She looked away from him as she said it. Jemma wasn’t normally shy.

“Well you’re not top in Physics.” He quipped, allowing a small smile to form on his face.

“Maybe you should tutor me Fitz.”

A grin spread across her face, letting him know she was kidding. Her tone was jovial. It was nice. He was one of the few people who got to see her like this. Happy, he supposed.

“Ready to go Leo?”

Lorna’s voice pierced the silence that had fallen over both of them.

“Yup, yup.” He mumbled, his eyes flitting from Jemma to his mum.

“Bye.” Fitz said softly as they left.

“Thanks for everything Lorna.” Jemma called after their retreating backs.

Something happened in Fitz’s chest as he pulled out and into that long driveway again that evening. He wasn’t sure if it was a weight settling itself on his chest or leaving it. Something about that place unsettled him. It wasn’t Jemma though. Of that at least, he was certain. Her existence within it perhaps.

“Did you rob the place or something?”

His mum’s voice pierced through his train of thought. Fitz just looked at her, confused.

“The quick getaway?” she said in explanation.

He didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say really. Didn’t know how to express how that place made him feel.

“You could have said goodbye.”

“I did!” He protested.

“She doesn’t exactly have an easy time of it Leo. You’ve met her mother.” Lorna scolded.

“You could try being a bit nicer to her.” She sighed.

Fitz glanced over at his mum’s face. It was another expression that he was familiar with. This one meant that he was getting a gentle telling off. If he did nothing about it, he’d be met with an expression far less pleasant.

“I am nice to her.” He grumbled.

“She’s actually a very sensitive person.”

He didn’t know why, but this conversation was making him feel, uncomfortable. Or at least something close to it. Like someone was gripping his chest, making his heart race.

“Can we please talk about anything else?” He said, determined to stave off any more conversation with his mother about Jemma Simmons. 

Lorna sighed and shifted in her seat. Fitz knew he hadn’t heard the end of it.

Pulling into the little driveway in front of their house, he began to feel at ease again. It was the fraction of the size of the Simmons’s house, but everything about it felt, better somehow. Taking himself upstairs, to the half-finished piece of homework on his tiny desk, he felt the grip around his chest lighten. This was where he felt most at home. Solving problems on a page. Working through things step by step. It was comfortable for him. Jemma’s face filled his head on occasion, as he sat there, doing the homework that was too easy for him. He couldn’t work it out. Couldn’t work her out. Why she behaved the way she did. Why he somehow found it endearing. He wasn’t very good at feelings. Never had been.

School the next day was fairly standard. Fitz wandered around the corridors with his friends, sat fairly quietly in class. A normal day really. Unconsciously, he found himself noticing Jemma more. If she passed him in the hallway. Where she sat in their shared classes. He was almost unnerved by their constant proximity to each other. He found that she was everywhere. Sitting by the big windows in the cafeteria with his friends, he noticed her at the next table. She had her nose in a book, her brow furrowed ever so slightly as her eyes scanned the words on the page. She never smiled at school.

“Enjoying your book Simmons?” A voice behind Fitz jeered.

He looked up to see his friend Milton, a grin on his face. Fitz would never understand why he liked taunting her so much. He didn’t understand what he gained from it. Jemma ignored him, but Fitz saw her eyes stop, no longer meticulously reading the page in front of her.

“I said, are you enjoying your book Simmons?” Milton said louder.

Fitz wished he would stop. Jemma just kept her eyes fixed on her book, looking as if she was paying them no attention. Everyone at his table was looking at her now, waiting for her to react. It was awful. Fitz struggled. Wanting to do something and actually doing it were two very different things. The protest seemed stuck in his throat. He watched as Jemma took a deep breath in and as she huffed it back out again. He watched as she dug her spoon into her pot of yogurt, traced its flight back up to her face. He was aware of the scoffs and jeers around him when the yogurt unfortunately fell onto her school shirt, aware of Sally Webber’s voice behind him saying “Oh my god ew.” as Jemma scooped the fallen yogurt off of her shirt and placed it in her mouth. Fitz felt stuck. His eyes fell to his hands as the jeers and whispers around him continued. He might not be very good at feelings, but he was familiar with the feeling of shame that was now filling his stomach like a swelling balloon and flushing his cheeks.

Later he heard Sally and one of her other friends gossiping, saying she’d found Jemma cleaning her shirt in one of the bathroom sinks. He wanted to tell them to shut up. To leave her alone. The grip on his chest made its appearance known again, and he stayed silent. He didn’t like his friends when they were like this, but he had no idea how to make them stop. The words never seemed able to leave his throat. 

Pathetic fallacy, he thought the next day as he drove into school. The rain was falling in sheets and he had to jog with his blazer held over his head to get from his car to the school doors. He managed to deposit his now very wet blazer into his locker before trudging to his first class of the day, Physics. He was barely even aware that he’d noticed Jemma was missing. He’d become so used to noting her presence that the sight of her empty stool wasn’t a surprise, as if he had already known she was absent before his eyes had confirmed it. She clattered in ten minutes later, drenched, her school jumper clinging to her uncomfortably, her hair plastered around her face. This wasn’t just from running from the car to the doors. Jemma was never late.

“The bell rang ten minutes ago Jemma.” Ms. Kitsworth scolded as Jemma trudged past her.

“Yes, I know.” Jemma grumbled as she took her seat.

Ms. Kitsworth blinked at her incredulously.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, just give me a detention and get on with it.” Jemma groaned back moodily, thudding her bag onto her bench.

Fitz didn’t know how she did it. He could never talk to anyone like that, never mind a teacher, no matter how wet and miserable he was. A small smile formed across his face as he looked over at Jemma. He admired that in her. The rest of the class echoed dramatically with ooh’s and soft laughter. Fitz ignored them, his eyes focused gently on Jemma. She rubbed her wet forehead with her hand, and her shoulders curled inwards. Fitz recognised the feeling; he knew it well. Wanting to disappear.

He stopped to talk to Ms. Kitsworth at the end of class. He needed to get out of class early the next day. He was on the school football team and tomorrow was the school league final. Fitz knew he wasn’t exactly at an international standing, but he enjoyed it. He liked knowing that. Fitz wasn’t sure what it was that he’d said to Ms. Kitsworth to make her laugh, but he laughed softly along because it felt like the right thing to do. He felt Jemma pass at his shoulder, her eyes on him. Warmth flooded his features and he made his excuses to Ms. Kitsworth.

He didn’t see much of Jemma for the rest of the morning, their timetables taking them in separate directions. It wasn’t until their first class after lunch that they saw each other again. Maths. Fitz was surrounded by his friends and Jemma stood at the wall against the door, alone.

“Looking like less of a drowned rat now eh Simmons.” Milton joked harshly.

Fitz swallowed hard.

“Thanks yeah. It was raining, in case you hadn’t noticed.” Jemma quipped back.

Fitz wondered if sometimes she enjoyed this. Being smarter and taking the piss out of Milton without even blinking.

“Should have brought an umbrella then shouldn’t you.” Milton fired back.

Not his best, Fitz thought.

“You strip off in the toilets again Simmons?”

Sally Webber’s voice joined the fray now.

“No, not this time. You didn’t get a good enough look the last time?” Jemma smiled sweetly back, her eyes solid and heavy on Sally.

Sally’s face dropped out of the nasty smile that had risen as she spoke. Fitz couldn’t help but laugh.

“’Oh just give me a detention and get on with it.’” Milton said mockingly, in a high clipped English accent.

Fitz winced inwardly. That was a step too far.

“The shit you get away with because you’re smart Simmons.” Milton berated.

“Yes, you must be at quite the disadvantage there Milton” She shot back, not batting an eyelash.

“Oh fuck off.” Milton grumbled.

The bell rang, and they all filed into the awaiting classroom, saving them from another round of cutting words tossed back and forth like knives. Fitz gazed at Jemma’s retreating back and he felt a surge of, something towards her. He couldn’t quite place it, but if he had to name it, it would be in the realm of affection. But it was more. More than just common affection.

Fitz spent most of the afternoon analysing that feeling in his head. He was very good at keeping a straight face, even when his mind was working and straining to try and work something out. He was still muddling over it at the end of the day, as he slung his training bag over his shoulder, and began to head out to football practise. For whatever reason, he wasn’t surprised to see Jemma standing in the entryway, leaning lazily against one of the pillars.

“Hey.”

His voice is gentle. He doesn’t need to be quiet. There’s no one else around.

“Are you not headed home?” He asked, noting her lack of rush.

Jemma just shakes her head.

“I did actually get a detention.” She smiled, eyeing the doorway in front of her, before her eyes came to rest, and fix, on him.

“I’m sorry.” Fitz replied.

It felt automatic. There was no hesitation. He normally hesitated before saying anything to just about everyone else.

“If we’re being proper about it, I technically requested it.”

A small smile formed across Jemma’s face as she spoke. Fitz felt that surge, that pull again as he watched her features form into the smile. Her eyes seemed to roam over him. If anyone else did that, Fitz knew how intensely uncomfortable he’d feel. But he didn’t, not with her. In fact he rather liked it.

“I don’t know how you bite back at the teachers like that. I could never.”

“I just hate being told what to do. I knew I was late. She didn’t need to announce it to the whole class like that. I don’t know, sometimes this whole thing just feels a bit dictatorial for my liking.” Jemma sighed.

Fitz couldn’t help the huff of laughter that left his lips. Dictatorial? Surely not.

“Really? It’s just school. It’s the same for everyone. Isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” She muttered in reply, pushing herself up and away from her pillar.

“You try and act like your friends. You’re not like them really. You know it. I know it.” Jemma said, wandering towards him.

“I’m not acting.” He shot back.

“So what if I am that kind of person?”

He was getting defensive. He didn’t know why.

“Why would you be talking to me then, if you were?”

Jemma’s voice was unusually small. Fitz couldn’t fathom an answer. He didn’t really know himself. He couldn’t explain what it was about Jemma Simmons that drew him to her. She just did. Perhaps it didn’t need an explanation. A silence fell over them as this all ran quickly through his brain. Fitz felt her eyes on him again. He wasn’t sure if she was expecting an answer.

“What was Ms. Kitsworth saying to you after class?” Jemma asked, unexpectedly.

Fitz stared at her for a moment. What an odd question.

“Getting out of class early. Got the big game tomorrow.” Fitz explained plainly.

“She must find that quite funny then. The big game.” Jemma said sarcastically, her eyes going from her shoes and back to Fitz’s face.

Fitz felt his cheeks flush at the insinuation beneath her sarcasm.

“Does she fancy you or something?” Jemma asked without hesitation.

Fitz felt his entire face, all the way up to his ears burn. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to field this question. Ms. Kitsworth was very beautiful, he would admit that, perhaps not out loud, but she was his teacher. There was just something about imagining her like that that felt inherently wrong.

“Why would you say that?”

The defensive quality filled his voice again. He hated it. Jemma’s eyes went wide in misinterpretation.

“You’re not having an affair with her are you?!” She exclaimed, in a voice rather too loud for Fitz’s liking.

He took a quick step forward towards her, his eyes wide in warning.

“Keep your voice down would you?! And no! We’re not- I would never! Something like that is utterly out of the question.” Fitz retaliated quickly, feeling his entire face burning again.

“Maybe people think that cause you blush a lot when she talks to you.” Jemma said swiftly.

Fitz found he couldn’t look at her anymore, his eyes finding his feet, and a piece of the linoleum flooring that was peeling up at the corner.

“But you know, you blush at everything.” Jemma continued on regardless, her eyes not wavering from his face.

“You’re blushing right now actually.” She finished.

Fitz ripped his eyes up from the floor to look at her again. He didn’t know why but he thought she’d look smug. But she didn’t. He couldn’t quite discern the look that she wore across her features, but it was far from smug.

“I know. I’m aware of what my face does thank you very much.” He muttered back.

As much as he was embarrassed, Fitz found that he was still in awe of her. In awe of her ability to be so blunt. To say what she was thinking. Fitz found himself being almost envious of that particular ability of hers.

“I’m sorry.” Jemma murmured, noting the look on his face.

“I don’t want to argue with you.”

As much as Fitz found Jemma Simmons and her many emotions rather enigmatical at times, he always seemed to know when she was being genuine.

“We’re not arguing.” Fitz assured.

Fitz watched her face fall and she seemed to retreat inside herself at his words. He couldn’t figure it out. Figure her out. He recognised that part of the pull he felt towards her was a desire to reconcile that, to know her.

“I know you probably hate me, like everyone else does. But you’re the only person who actually talks to me.” Jemma admitted.

It seemed to be a painful admission. Fitz was almost taken aback. He didn’t hate her. He hated that she thought that. She confused him sometimes, impressed him more often, but he could never hate her.

“I could never hate you, Jemma.” He said quietly.

She seemed to come back to herself with his words. Her eyes locked onto his, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable. In fact it was quite the opposite. It felt intimate in a way that Fitz had never experienced before. Her eyes were beautiful.

“Well, I like you, Fitz.”

The words themselves were plain, but they held so much. Fitz had no idea how to react. She liked him. Jemma Simmons liked him. Fitz felt his face burn again. Did he like her? He wasn’t sure. The sound of footsteps broke him from his silent, almost gaping reverie. Turning, he saw a teacher, followed by a small group of other pupils making their way towards them. Time for Jemma’s detention.

“Well, I-uh, I should go to training.” Fitz stumbled, backing slowly away from her.

He hadn’t realised how close she was until now. Jemma nodded at him, and gave him a small smile.

“Good luck at the match tomorrow!” She called after him.

Fitz turned back, his face red again and gave her a fleeting look and a short smile.

“Thanks.” He murmured, as he pushed the front doors open.

His mind reeled as he walked to training. She liked him. Why?

The whole year got carted off in a stagecoach the next day to see them play in the finals. Fitz privately thought it was a bit excessive. Jemma was sat near the front of the coach, on her own. Fitz could see her from the back of the bus where he was sat with his teammates. He managed to push Jemma Simmons out of his mind by the time the match started. The other team did give them a run for their money. It was tied one all before Fitz managed to score one last goal in the last five minutes. The stand erupted. The final whistle blew, and Fitz felt joy and utter relief. At least with football, he knew exactly how he felt. The rest of the year was already seated when the team piled back onto the bus. They were met with cheers and congratulations. It was a nice feeling. He was stopped by Milton as he made his way up the aisle, who clapped him hard on the back, but Fitz wasn’t paying attention. Next to him was Jemma. She was sat alone again, tucked into the window seat. She wasn’t cheering along with everyone else, but looking down at her hands, knotting them together. Without thinking, without even being aware that he’d made the decision to do it, Fitz placed his bag in the overhead storage, and sat himself in the empty seat next to Jemma. He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes and caught her doing the same. He felt his cheeks fill with heat again. After everything, after yesterday, he thought, he thought that this would be awkward. But it wasn’t. Her presence felt like the easiest thing in the world, almost as if she was cooling the adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins since before the match had begun.

Despite this, Fitz felt, for the first time in a while, nervous as he drove up to the Simmons’s house to pick up his mum that evening. The usual discomfort of the place washed over him too, but nerves seemed to bite and gnash and push to the forefront of his brain. He was early, so he sat in the car for five minutes before deciding that he was being silly and making his way up and into the big, white house. His mum met him at the door, and the tight ball that had been winding in his chest seemed to slacken at the sight of her.

“You’re early!” She smiled.

“I’ve a little bit to do yet, so you’ll have to hang around for a minute if that’s okay.” Lorna said, leaning down to pick up her mop bucket.

Fitz felt all of the moisture in his throat and mouth leave at those words.

“Y-yeah, that’s fine.” He managed to get out through his suddenly dry lips.

He started to wander towards his normal waiting point of the kitchen, but his mum’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“No! Not in there, I just finished mopping!” Lorna cried.

Fitz hopped back like the threshold had burned his feet.

“Anyway, well done! You got man of the match!” She exclaimed, beaming at him.

Fitz just looked at her questioningly.

“Jemma told me.” Lorna answered his silent question.

“I’m so proud of you. I’ll be ten minutes at the most, I promise, then we’ll be off and we can celebrate.”

He nodded, watching as she sped off, mop bucket bouncing in her hand. Fitz looked around. He hadn’t really been anywhere else but the kitchen. He hadn’t wanted to snoop. His eyes fell on the room across the hall. It looked like some kind of library or study. Intrigued, Fitz made his way over and began scanning the many shelves that lined the walls. He was surprised to find so many scientific theory books. He’d thought that Mrs Simmons was a lawyer. Fitz pulled one out that he recognised and began to thumb through it. He was familiar with most of the theories the book contained, but the books presence in itself was fascinating to him.

“You played well today.”

Fitz almost dropped the book and spun around. Jemma was standing in the doorway. She wasn’t in her uniform. Fitz thought that he could probably count on his hand the amount of times he’d seen her wearing something that wasn’t school uniform. It did her no favours. She looked beautiful, dressed in a slouchy jumper and leggings.

“T-thanks. That’s nice of you to say.” Fitz rushed, taken aback by her sudden presence and appearance.

“I can be nice you know.” She smiled gently back.

“I know.” He said softly, toying gently with the book in his hands.

“You know, the way you are in school, I don’t think you’re really like that.” Fitz spoke almost nervously.

Jemma frowned at him.

“Really? Then what am I really like?” She shot back.

Fitz didn’t know how to respond to that. He didn’t know why he’d said it really. It had just fallen out without him really knowing what he was saying.

“You can borrow it if you want.” She said quietly, nodding at the book still clutched in his hands, meandering slowly over to him.

“T-that’s alright. I know most of the stuff that’s in it anyway. Don’t know why I picked it up when I recognised it.”

“Y-you might like it actually. I-I know it’s physics, but a lot of the stuff might be useful in biochemical applications.” He rambled quickly.

“Do your friends know about your interest in physics and engineering and all that?” Jemma asked knowingly.

Fitz looked down, turning the book in his hands.

“Uhm, no, no. I don’t think they’d be that interested to be honest.” He mumbled.

“Not interested in how the world around them works and functions? Hmm.” She quipped.

“Not in the same way that you and I are. They have other interests I suppose.”

The words came unconsciously to Fitz, like they did a lot of the time when he spoke to Jemma. She stared at him wide eyed, like she knew what he was thinking, which sometimes he wondered if she did.

“Hmm, other interests, like bragging about who they’re having sex with?” Jemma quipped quickly back.

“Uhm, yeah. They do that. I’m not defending it or anything. I don’t really like it when they go on like that.” Fitz said, swallowing hard, not looking at her.

“There’s some stuff that crosses an obvious line and that really gets me. But uhm, they’re my mates. I guess it’s different for you.”

He pulled his eyes up to look at her again.

“Why is it different?” She asked plainly.

Why couldn’t she ask an easy question? Fitz swallowed hard again, twirling the book in his hands. Two could play at that game.

“You know, the other day, yesterday actually, when you said that you liked me. I was- I just, I was wondering if you meant like as a friend or, as uh more than that?” He asked.

Fitz watched as her eyes fell to the floor, contemplating her answer. When she looked back up again, she stared at him, right in the eyes, and he thought he knew what she was going to say, even before she said it.

“No.”

Her voice was the softest he’d ever heard it.

“Not just as a friend. More than that.”

Jemma’s eyes bore into him and Fitz felt like she was seeing all of him. Every single tiny little particle of him.

“Y-yeah, I thought that’s what you meant, I just uh, wanted to check.” He stammered out.

He paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say. He found that hard sometimes.

“I just- I- I think I like you too. I-ah-just-I don’t know what everyone at school would say if something happened between us.”

Jemma just looked at him. He saw the wheels turning in her head as her eyes searched his face. It must be this intensity, this fixed concentration that allowed her to see so directly into his head, Fitz thought.

“No one would have to know.” Jemma said quietly, stepping closer towards him.

He hadn’t thought of that. Fitz could practically feel her now, she was standing so close. His eyes seemed drawn to hers. He liked her eyes. It was like he could see the world in them. He allowed his eyes to flit down to her lips, and he felt his heart leap. He couldn’t say who moved first, who initiated it, but their lips found their way to one another, meeting in the most gentle of kisses. They broke apart and Jemma took a sudden step away from him. She almost looked surprised.

“That was nice.” She smiled after a moment.

She kept smiling. It suited her. Fitz didn’t think he’d seen her smile before. Not properly. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. A small gasp of laughter left her lips, and Fitz couldn’t help but return her smile.

“What are you laughing for?”

“Nothing.” She shot back quickly.

He knew it was a lie. She couldn’t stop smiling.

“You’re acting like you’ve never been kissed before.” He smiled back.

This time, it was her turn to go red.

“I haven’t.” She laughed quietly.

Fitz couldn’t help the puffs of laughter that fell from his mouth. She really was beautiful when she smiled, even more when she laughed. She was radiant. It was just them, in that moment together. The world came crashing down around them again with the sound of Fitz’s mum shouting his name. They both started, Fitz placing the book that was inexplicably still in his hands down on the nearest surface before bolting towards the entryway. A thought struck him, and he swung back around to look at Jemma. She hadn’t moved, she just looked at him with her bright and knowing eyes.

“Can we- uh- can we not tell anyone at school about this?” He asked nervously.

Jemma blinked at him.

“Who would I tell at school?” She replied with a small smile.

This smile was different, Fitz noticed. He gave her a small nod before retreating away, in search of his mum. He felt a different kind of lightness as he drove away that evening. The image of Jemma Simmons smiling, laughing, seemed to be burned onto his retinas. He could live with that image at the forefront of his mind for the rest of his life quite happily. As soon as they were home, and his mum out of sight, Fitz traced his lips with his hand, remembering. His stomach leapt at the recollection. Perhaps he did like Jemma Simmons more than he had thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for reading! Like I said, this fic is a bit out of my comfort zone, but I really had a good time writing it, it was a nice challenge really.  
> Thank so much again for reading! 
> 
> Skye :)


	2. Together.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz and Jemma get closer, but it is not easy hiding a relationship from everyone you know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sighs* I really need to stop saying I’m going to not write things, cause all I end up doing is writing them. The reaction to the first chapter was so amazingly and overwhelming positive that I just couldn’t ignore the drive to go on and to continue and write through all 12 episodes. This is based primarily on the TV adaptation I should say, rather than the book itself, but I did look at it for references to tone and such. Also I played with the idea of skirting around some of the more NSFW scenes in the show, but I found I just couldn’t, there’s far too much emotional charge and drive in those scenes that it just wouldn’t be doing the thing justice if I left them out. So I present for the very first time ever in my entire writing career so far, smut. EMOTIONAL SMUT, but smut all the same. Please be kind, I really have no idea if this is any good. I have put it at the highest rating, as a just in case. I think this chapter at least kind of skirts the M/E rating, but I’d rather be safe than sorry, and with what happens further on in this story it’s probably safe to just keep it at that anyway. For once I don’t actually have this whole thing written yet, and chapters will be coming when they’re done. I’m hoping to get them out once a week, but my life is maybe about to turn to insanity (for good reasons) and I might not have time. Also just because of the way I wrote the first chapter, this chapter starts five minutes from the end of the first episode and into the entirety of the second episode, so if the pacing seems a little strange at the beginning, that’s why. Also, because the amount of things that happens in this universe is A LOT, I have tried my best to tag this fic as THOROUGHLY AS POSSIBLE, but there is always a chance that something will slip through the cracks, and I will add them if and when I find them, just pls make sure to keep checking them, because as I say, A LOT happens in this universe and I wouldn’t want anyone to walk into this unprepared. ANYWAY, this is a LONG ASS ramble, I shall let you get to the reading.

Fitz ran his hand over his lips again. The memory of Jemma’s lips against his own had been quietly overwhelming him for the past couple of days. He was supposed to be going to pick his mum up from their house, to take her to the shops, but somehow he’d ended up on the winding country road that led to the Simmons house. He drove past the entry to their driveway, thinking better of it. He only drove for about five more seconds before he stopped the car abruptly. His fingers found their way to his mouth again, tracing gently over the soft skin of his lips. Fitz didn’t think that he was a particularly impulsive person, but he recognised that, as soon as he put the car into reverse, he was acting on pure impulse alone. It was still early. Jemma would not long be home from school, her mother and brother would still be at work. He could tell his mum the traffic in town was terrible. He just needed to see her, and maybe, hopefully, feel her lips against his own again. He needed to make sense of it, he thought, as he made his way down the stone strewn driveway. Fitz felt a jolt in his stomach, as he always did when he made his way down this driveway, and the large, white, intimidating figure of a house came into view. Today however, apprehension was replaced by something that, to Fitz, felt like excitement. He couldn’t work it out. Somehow, he knew that by seeing Jemma, feeling her against him again, he could make some kind of sense of it all. 

He didn’t just walk in, like he normally did. It felt wrong, when Jemma was in the house by herself. He pressed the doorbell, and bounced nervously as he waited. Fitz recognised surprise on her face, seeing it reflected through the glass of the door. Surprise turned quickly to confusion, her brow knitted together as she opened the door.

“Your mum’s not here.” Jemma said softly, her voice plain, her eyes searching his face. 

Fitz shifted where he stood, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his grey school trousers. 

“I know.” 

The surprise was back on her face. Jemma was still in her uniform, her hair swept back into its normal long plait. Fitz had been right. She can’t have been home for long.

“Can I come in?” He asked, trying to keep his voice at a steady level.

He didn’t feel very steady. Something about her very presence seemed to have knocked the wind out of him, chased all sense from his head. Jemma didn’t reply, just looked at him for a moment, her eyes wide. Before Fitz had time to think about what this small shift in her features could possibly mean, she’d stepped to one side, allowing him entrance into the house. 

“Thanks.” He murmured quietly, giving her a small smile as he passed her. 

Something in his chest seemed to roar as he passed her, delighted by being in the very proximity of Jemma Simmons.

“Y-you’re not busy or anything?” Fitz stuttered out, the thought suddenly occurring to him.

“No. I’m just…” Jemma trailed off with a kind smile, turning, and walking further into the house than Fitz had ever dared explore. 

He watched her for a second, her plait swaying down her back, before he realised he probably should be following her. He began walking with a jolt, his hands still balled into his pockets, the fingers finding and toying with the hem of their lining. She led him down the dark corridor, down into a sparsely, but softly decorated sitting room. The cushions on one side of the couch were slightly more squashed than their neighbours, the only evidence of life in the room. She turned, her eyes searching his face. Fitz was aware that the silence between them must only have lasted a second, but all the same it felt like years. He felt that pull towards her again, the one he couldn’t explain, but slowly he was starting to understand. Jemma’s hair wasn’t as neat as it had been at the start of the day. Soft tendrils of hair had freed themselves from her tidy plait. Fitz had the inexplicable desire to reach out, to tuck them back. He pulled his focus from the gentle curls of hair framing her face, and realised her eyes were still intently searching his face. 

“Are you going to start kissing me again?” 

Fitz couldn’t say why he wasn’t more taken aback by the brashness of her question. Unconsciously, his eyes fell to her lips. This wasn’t why he’d come here. He wasn’t really sure why he’d come, but he would never dare be so presumptuous. But at her question, it was like a switch turned on inside of him. She had seemed to hit on the one thing he wanted more than anything else in the world, whether he knew it or not. The world became her, and she was the world. Untangling his hands from his pockets, he moved tentatively towards her. She didn’t falter as he got closer. He even thought he heard her breath catch as he cradled her face in his hands, and pressed his lips against hers. Everything about her overwhelmed him. The smell of her shampoo, her small hands pressing at the small of his back, pulling her towards him as their lips slid deliciously together. Fitz had been right. The world made sense now, as he felt Jemma against him, felt the soft skin of her cheeks under his fingertips, felt the silken touch of her lips against his own. Jemma pulled back first, resting her forehead gently against his. 

“Can we take our clothes off?” Her breathless voice said gently.

Fitz let out a huff of laughter. It wasn’t in disbelief. He had no problem believing that Jemma Simmons could be so bold. What he couldn’t fathom was that this was reality. He wanted to spend his life in her arms. He felt, for the first time, truly real wrapped around her like this. How did she have this effect on him? The mere idea of so much of her soft bare skin pressed against his own was enough to make his head spin. But then the real world seemed to reach into this moment, and Fitz remembered where he was.

“No.” He let out, his voice a breathless smile. 

Immediately he knew he was wrong. Jemma stiffened slightly under his touch, and pulled her forehead from his. He didn’t like the look on her face. He didn’t want her to think he was rejecting her. Not now. Not now she was everything.

“No. No I just meant - not here.” Fitz stammered. 

Jemma’s expression didn’t change. His stomach seemed to drop as she backed further away, and flopped onto the couch behind them. Fitz seemed to falter. Jemma continued to watch him as he nervously placed himself next to her. He didn’t want her to back away again. Why was he so useless at saying what he meant? He wanted to be with her, in every single way. His mind reeled as he thought. It came to him suddenly. 

“My- my mum’s away on Saturday. All day.” He swallowed hard, his eyes catching hers again. 

“You could come over, if you want?” 

He knew it was a loaded question. Jemma stared at the floor for a second. She was silent and Fitz began to panic. She spoke, just as he was about to open his mouth and rescind the offer or make himself clear, he wasn’t sure which. 

“Will anyone else be there?” 

Somehow, this question felt more loaded than his own. Fitz swallowed again, a rock of saliva forcing its way down his throat. 

“No.” 

He shook his head. Jemma’s eyes were on him again. They were wide in understanding. She knew what he was asking. A small smile spread across her features, and Fitz felt relief like he had never experienced before flood his chest. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He leaned forward and captured her lips with his own again, letting the entity of Jemma Simmons overwhelm him again. Her hands came to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to her, and Fitz felt like fire was coursing through his veins. Jemma was pulling him down, until he was almost on top of her, their bodies intertwined on the plush cushions of the couch. Heaven. Pure heaven. 

“Are you sure we can’t take our clothes off?” Jemma murmured against his lips.

Fitz let out another huff of laughter. He had to admire her persistence at least. 

“No. I promised mum I’d take her to the shops. I really should be heading there now, I-I mean, this, this was wonderful but I didn’t come here with the intention...” Fitz rambled, pushing himself away from her. 

The world seemed duller without her touch.

“I know.” Jemma smiled kindly, relaxing back into the couch cushions, her arms folded.

“You were tempted for a second though?” 

Fitz felt himself go red. 

“W-w-well, I mean…” Fitz spluttered, his eyes flitting from her to his hands. 

“It’s alright Fitz.” 

Jemma gave a small, conciliatory laugh. 

“I tempted you.” 

Fitz couldn’t help but smile at her words and he managed to raise his head and look at her again. He wondered if she was bragging. There was still so much to figure out, to know, about Jemma Simmons, he thought. Fitz glanced at his watch, and realised he couldn’t really blame the traffic on his absence for much longer. He got up and headed towards the door without really thinking.

“You’ll come on Saturday?” He asked quickly, turning back on his heel to look at her, realising suddenly that she had never given him an answer. 

Jemma had sat up. His chest seemed to fill with a feeling he couldn’t quite place, as he watched her head nod gently, a soft smile spreading across her face. He tried not to let the grin spread across his face too, but he couldn’t help it. 

“I’ll see you then.” He nodded back, and turned quickly before he gave himself away. 

He balled his fists into his pockets as he made his way towards the front door. Saturday. His breath seemed to catch in his throat at the thought. Saturday. For a brief moment Fitz allowed himself to wonder what his friends would think if they could see him now. He shook his head, ridding the thought from his head. They all thought that Jemma was insane. It would be easy enough to slap that label onto him as well. The idea of people talking about him behind his back was unbearable. They already talked about his mum. She’d been young, unmarried, when she had him, and it wasn’t exactly celebrated. Fitz knew he couldn’t do anything about people talking about that. He’d grown used to it over the years. But people talking about him, calling him crazy... He twisted his car keys under his fingers at the mere thought. No. It was best that no one found out. 

Fitz couldn’t seem to sit still. His mum had left for her friend's hen-do about an hour ago. He hadn’t been able to keep himself still since the door had shut behind her. Jemma would be here any minute. Fitz got up from where he was sitting at his small desk and looked at his tiny little single bed. The one obvious concession he’d made to the reality of his situation was that he’d made it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d made his bed. Quite frankly he didn’t see the point of it. But today he found that he cared. His reverie about the state of his bedsheets was broken by the two tone ring of the doorbell. Fitz jumped, and something in his stomach seemed both to fall and ignite. He fought his impulse to run down the stairs, to take them two at a time and rip the front door open. Fitz paced himself on the stairs and took a deep breath in before opening the door. Jemma stood on the step, her feet twisting where she stood. Her eyes found his quickly. Fitz had no idea how she did that.

“Hi.” He breathed. 

“Hi.” She smiled quietly back. 

They took each other in for a moment, before Fitz realised that it wasn’t a good idea to linger like this. He stepped to one side, letting her in. Her steps seemed tentative. Fitz looked over her shoulder as she came in. The street was deserted. Good. No one saw. He shut the door and turned to her. She was twisting her hands, but her eyes remained on him. Fitz had no idea what to do next. His eyes flitted all over the place before finally resting on the kitchen doorway, just behind Jemma’s shoulder. 

“D-d’you want a drink or something?” He blurted. 

It seemed the polite thing to offer. Jemma nodded. 

“Tea?” 

“Tea. Yep, tea.” Fitz sputtered. 

Tea. He could do tea. He let out a sigh that he knew, for once, was relief. Half an hour later, he found himself again, on his little desk chair, a mug of cooling tea in his hands, watching Jemma, who was sat on his bed, her eyes scanning the small space of his bedroom, her own mug wrapped in her hands. He had a lot of stuff on his walls. Posters, a Man U banner his mum had gotten him for a long ago birthday, a picture of the large and swirling Milky Way, sketches and ideas. They were, for a lack of a better word, his inventions. Jemma seemed intrigued by them. At least that was what he thought. Fitz still wasn’t very good at reading her emotions.

“You have a lot of posters.” She said finally. 

“You don’t?” Fitz asked, with a quirk of his eyebrow. 

Jemma shook her head. 

“Blue tack marks up the paint.” She offered in explanation. 

“I’m not really a poster kind of person anyway.” Jemma shrugged, bringing her mug to her lips. 

“Too cool for that are you?” Fitz teased with a small smile. 

He didn’t know where it came from. It was easy to speak to her. Easy to tease and to smile, not in a cruel or mean way, but playfully. He couldn’t account for the ease he felt when Jemma Simmons was around. 

“I’m not sure cool is a word people associate with me.” Jemma said quietly. 

She smiled as she spoke, but something in her eyes didn’t quite match it. 

“What would people say about you then?” Fitz asked.

He realised how it must have sounded after he said it. He just wanted to know more about her. Perhaps finding out how she thought of herself would help him. 

“I don’t know.” Jemma laughed smally 

“Annoying. Obnoxious. Argumentative, definitely.” Jemma began listing. 

Fitz was taken aback. He’d thought her more confident than this. Why was she saying all these things? Why to him? She placed her mug on the floor and continued. 

“Arrogant. I did hear one time that I was a witch, I enjoyed that one. Prudish. Frigid.” 

“Stop it.” Fitz interrupted, unable to listen to any more. 

“No one says that about you.” 

“Yes they do. Corridors aren’t that big, and people at that school can’t whisper. I do hear what they say.” Jemma quickly countered. 

“So? Who gives a shit what they say? Said worse about me behind my back.” Fitz mumbled.

They had. He knew it. Mostly about his mum, about his lack of a father, about how his dad left eight years ago, about what his father had done since. He’d learned to ignore it years ago.

“No. They haven’t.” Jemma said plainly. 

“People like you.” 

She said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Shy people aren’t annoying.” 

Again, she spoke as if it were obvious, as if this something he should already know. 

“I’m not shy!” Fitz protested. 

“Just cause I don’t run my mouth off like Milton all the time… Cause I don’t give my opinion on everything all the time…” He trailed off, looking down at his hands, still wrapped around the now cold mug of tea. He placed it on the desk behind him, not looking at her.

“You don’t ever give an opinion on anything Fitz.” Jemma said, her eyes boring into him.

It wasn’t an attack. It was the truth. Fitz felt his cheeks burn with it, and felt the sudden desire to defend himself. He didn’t know why. 

“You always know what you think. I’m not exactly like that.” He said, bringing his eyes up to meet hers again.

“You must know how you feel though?” 

Fitz thought her voice sounded as if it was laced with concern. He wasn’t sure if he liked that. He wasn’t a fan of pity. He shook his head. 

“No. I struggle with that actually. I can sometimes figure out how I feel in-in retrospect you know? But when it’s happening, most of the time, all of the time really, I don’t have a bloody clue.” He admitted. 

Jemma’s brow knit together at his words. How he’d like to know what she was thinking, how that brain of hers worked. 

“Then how do you know what you want?” 

A simple question, but with a difficult answer. It felt peculiarly loaded. Jemma’s voice had turned soft, soft like he’d never heard when she uttered it. She poked at things he’d never thought about. He was yet to decide if this was a good thing. 

“I don’t. Most of the time I don’t have a clue.” He admitted.

Jemma’s face softened at his words. Fitz couldn’t make out what it was, but it wasn’t pity. She was quiet for a second, studying her hands. She couldn’t be thinking about what to say, Fitz thought. Jemma always knew what to say. 

“What about now?” She asked, barely audible. 

If Fitz hadn’t been paying her such acute attention, he wasn’t sure he would have heard her. It felt as if they had reached a point. Fitz could either admit to himself, to them both, the real reason he’d asked her here, or he could skirt around it some more. His eyes fell to her lips. It had only been a couple of days since the last time he had kissed her but he found himself craving it. Craving her touch, her lips against his own. The feel of her. He sat forward in his chair, making a decision and acting on it before he had too much time to think about it, or regret it. His room was so small, he barely had to take a pace, before he stood over her. For once, he knew what he wanted. He cradled her face in his hands, and brought their lips together. It felt both exhilarating, and peaceful, and Fitz wondered how that could be. Everything became her again, as his fingers caressed softly against her face, and her fingers found the edge of his t-shirt. 

“Now can we take our clothes off?” She asked breathily against his lips.

Fitz couldn’t help but laugh at her consistent boldness. He nodded.

“Yeah, yeah.” He murmured nervously, before pulling her back towards him. 

She chased his lips as he straightened up, coaxing her up from where she was sat on the bed. Fitz’s fingers grazed around the edge of her t-shirt, the tips of his fingers barely grazing the skin underneath. Jemma seemed to encourage him, moving further into his touch. His heart seemed to pound in his chest. Fitz took a deep breath and pulled away, grasping at the hem of Jemma’s shirt before pulling it up and over her head. He barely had a second to appreciate the new expanse of soft, creamy skin now bared to him, before Jemma pulled him back down to her lips, her own hands tugging at his shirt. 

“You too.” 

Her voice was quiet, but Fitz could hear the heaviness of it. The desire laced in her words. Desire. For him. The thought was almost unfathomable. He nodded, taking a step back, tugging his own t-shirt over his head. Doubt seemed to wrack him almost immediately. Jemma’s lips on his made it disappear as quickly as it had arrived. She wanted to see him like this. Had been the one to suggest it. He wished he could recognise the feeling now blooming in his chest. It was new. Very new. Whatever it was, it was good. Beyond good, and he wanted more and Jemma was the source. The skin on his hands seemed to tingle and ignite against her, as he ran his hands gently around her belly, circling around her back, pulling her closer, closer. The lace of her bra scratched his chest but Fitz didn’t care. This was now the world as he knew it, and he was never going back. His fingers fumbled upwards, searching for a clasp, but he was met with the contrasting feelings of elastic and lace. 

“Up.” Jemma murmured. 

Fitz understood. Standing back, he slipped his fingers under the clawing elastic, and attempted to pull it up and over Jemma’s head. His face flushed as he fumbled with the thing. It seemed determined to cling to her, a feeling with which Fitz could empathise. A small laugh puffed out of Jemma’s mouth, and Fitz seemed to relax. He knew her smiles were rare, and treasured every one. 

“It’s a bit tight.” he said, a smile spreading across his own features now. 

“Yeah, I didn't really think this through did I?” Jemma laughed softly.

It took a few more seconds of struggle, before they managed to rid her of the offending garment. Fitz was glad to see she was still smiling. His ineptitude at removing bras hadn’t made her rethink her decision and run for the hills then. Their lips met again, her fingers grazing softly at the back of his neck, winding slowly up into his curls. Fitz had been right. Her skin against his was something otherworldly. She was everywhere and everything. 

“Can I ask you something?” Jemma asked suddenly, breaking away from him. 

He should have been surprised. He wasn’t. He had learned now to expect the unexpected with Jemma Simmons. Her interrupting foreplay to ask a question didn’t startle him in the slightest. 

“It’s not really my place to ask but…” She trailed. 

Fitz shifted slightly. He was nervous now. Or again. 

“Do you do this a lot?” 

Fitz knit his brow.

“This?” He asked, confused. 

Jemma toyed with the waistband of her jeans for a second before replying. 

“Asking girls round like this? Seducing them?” 

She seemed to retreat into herself again. Her eyes were fixed on his but there was an earnestness to her words. A concern. The implication behind her words was not lost on him. 

“N-No. I-uh, haven’t done anything like this before. You would-ah, you would be the first.” He stumbled. 

Fitz felt his face go red at the admission. He didn’t take his eyes from hers though. He couldn’t. She was so close now, he could feel his breath intermingling with hers. 

“But your friends…” Jemma started.

“Don’t know.” Fitz finished. 

“I let them believe what they want sometimes. It’s easier. They believe what they want most of the time anyway. No point in arguing with them.” He added. 

Jemma stayed silent, her eyes boring into his. 

“That day, when I came round, I didn’t plan on… it wasn’t my intention… I-I-, I just wanted to see you. I like talking to you.” 

Fitz felt his face burn again. 

“Besides, if I remember rightly, this…” Fitz gestured between them.

“Was your idea. Couldn't I argue it was you seducing me?” He said with a small smile. 

Jemma returned it. Her eyes seemed to come alive again at his words. 

“I was trying. I didn’t think it would work.” She admitted, her face flushing. 

“Well it did.” Fitz smiled, bringing his hand up to her cheek. 

Jemma seemed to falter for a moment, her eyes flitting down to his chest. 

“There are much prettier girls at school who like you.” 

Her voice was small and it made Fitz’s heart wrench. He didn’t give a shit about those other girls. Only Jemma. Fitz had no idea how to say that. Instead he pulled her back to him, capturing her lips with his own again, holding her as close as he could. Her hands brushed across the crotch of his jeans, fumbling at the button and the zip. Fitz suddenly felt embarrassed, before remembering, that this was okay. Jemma could do that, could feel him against her. No one would know. This would not be floating around the rumor mill on Monday. This was just for them. He relaxed at this thought and allowed his hands to skim the waistband of her trousers. Goosebumps raised on her stomach where he touched her, making his way to the fastenings of her jeans. The button was stiff and he had to break their kiss to concentrate on undoing it. Jemma, ever the opportunist, took this break to push his trousers over his bum. Fitz’s breath seemed to catch when the button finally undid, and he was able to hook his fingers in her belt loops and pull her trousers down. He helped her step out of them, before stepping out of his own. Fitz caught her eyes again and there seemed to be a silent acknowledgement between the two of them. Simultaneously, they both reached down and pushed down their underwear. Fitz became acutely aware of the silence in the room. Neither of them seemed to be breathing. Straightening up, they took each other in for a moment. He heard Jemma let out a long breath before she met his eyes again. Fitz hadn’t seen anyone naked before, not like this. It felt almost unbearably intimate. Precious even. He wanted to say something, to say how he felt, but the words stuck in his throat. She was beautiful. He couldn’t even get that out. Instead, he just reached for her, his hands around her face, pulling her towards him again. Jemma’s hands found the nape of his neck and suddenly he felt as if they were as close as two people could be. His hands traced down her, tentatively. He felt, unsure. Obviously he knew about the mechanics of sex, had read things and seen depictions of it on the telly, but he felt vastly unprepared for the reality of it. Carefully, softly he brushed a thumb over her nipple. He was rewarded with a soft gasp into his mouth. 

They tipped back as one onto his bed, met only by the gentle creak of his mattress. If kissing Jemma had felt wonderful, being like this with her, caressing every inch of her, feeling her skin pressed wantonly against his, Fitz thought he could explode with it. The small gasps of pleasure she kept letting out as his fingers continued to gently skim down her body were heaven sent. They touched for Fitz couldn’t tell you how long. It might have been days. Time seemed to move differently now. Fitz marvelled at the gasps she made as he ran his fingers through her folds, and the sound he made when her small, cold fingers grasped his cock was unearthly. 

“Do you have a condom?” Jemma whispered, breaking the divine quiet. 

Fitz sat back and looked at her. Her hair was mussed, her lips swollen. Irresistible. And yet something in him caught. He wanted to be sure. 

“Y-you’re sure? That’s what you want?” He asked.

He tried to keep his voice level. He didn’t want her to feel like he was judging her. Far from it. He’d never wanted anything more in his life. If she felt half the same as he did, well, he understood. Jemma nodded, her hair catching on the pillow beneath her.

“Yeah. I’m sure.You have my consent.” 

“Yeah, an-and you have mine.” 

Fitz reached over and pulled out the pack of condoms from his bedside table. His mum had pressed the pack into his hands one day, causing him to turn bright red. She’d said she just wanted him to be careful, but he knew what she wasn’t saying. Don’t make the same mistake I did. 

“Is this your first time too?” Fitz asked, fumbling with the foil packet now in his hands. 

Jemma nodded. 

“Is that okay?” She quickly worried.

“O-of course!” Fitz quickly spat. 

“J-just if you want to stop, or if it hurts or anything, just tell me and we can. Stop, that is.” He sputtered. 

“I don’t think I’ll want that.” Jemma said with a small smile. 

Fitz felt suddenly self conscious. He didn’t know why. 

“J-just if you do, let me know. It won’t be awkward or anything. It’s fine if you want to.” Fitz assured her.

Jemma nodded again. She reached up and placed her hand on his cheek. 

“Thank you.” She whispered. 

Rolling on a condom was possibly the unsexiest thing in the world, Fitz thought. Hoping to cover his own feeling of awkwardness, he quickly caught Jemma’s lips again with his own. 

“I think you’re very pretty by the way.” He said softly as he pulled back. 

Jemma flushed, and seemed to go inwards again. It was different than the other times he’d seen her do it. Maybe it was because they were both naked and Fitz was currently kneeling between her thighs, but Fitz thought that this, bashfulness, he couldn’t think of a better word for it, made her more beautiful. 

“Don’t.” She scoffed with a nervous laugh, her hands coming up to screw into her eyes.

Fitz shifted between her legs, his cock catching between her folds and Jemma’s laughter gave way to a simultaneous groan. He opened his mouth to ask, but her eyes, her look, the slight nod of her head, told him that it was okay. He captured her lips in a gentle kiss, a reassurance. He leaned his forehead gently against hers and reached down, ignoring the small shake of his hand, and guided himself into her slowly. He’d closed his eyes, but when Jemma gasped, they snapped open again. 

“I-is everything okay? Does it hurt?” He asked swiftly, ready to pull back again as soon as she said so. 

Jemma looked up at him, her eyes wide, and to his surprise gave a small smile. She reached up and cupped his cheek in her hand. 

“A bit. It’s nice though. Keep going.” She breathed, her voice heavy with something new, something Fitz had never heard before.

Fitz gave a short nod, and continued to sink slowly into her. If kissing Jemma, touching her, made the world feel like it made any kind of sense, being inside of her made Fitz feel like he could understand all the secrets of the universe, like he understood now that he had always meant to be here like this with her. Fitz opened his eyes, unaware that he had closed them again, and looked at her. Jemma’s face was inches from his own, her own eyes fluttered shut and he could feel her heavy breath on his cheek. Her hand had slid from his cheek down to his back, urging him forwards, holding him close. Fitz wondered if she felt the same way that he did. His eyes bore into the soft features of her face, and he wondered if he would ever be able to fully understand what was happening beneath them. But that was a thought too all consuming for now. Fitz closed his eyes again and let his world become her again. 

He kissed her as she came, his hand occupied with her pleasure, as he rocked back and forth, in and out of her, chasing his own end. Jemma’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him close as he stiffened against her, as he spent himself inside of her, her head tucked tightly against his shoulder. They stayed like that for a moment, as the buzz faded from Fitz’s head, as his limbs grew heavy. Leaving this moment would be one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He pulled away from her, a slight gasp coming from Jemma’s lips as he left her entirely. She nodded again. It was okay. Fitz got up on shaky legs and tossed the condom into the bin by his desk, before turning and looking back at Jemma. She was flushed the most beautiful shade of red. Fitz climbed carefully back onto his little single bed, and wrapped his arms around her. 

“Thank you.” Jemma whispered into his shoulder. 

Fitz had no idea what to say to this. Words seemed to have left him completely. He had no idea how to articulate everything that he had just felt, everything she had made him feel. It was too much for words. They wouldn’t do it justice. He just pressed a kiss to her forehead, letting his lips linger over her skin. He felt his eyes drooping and his body falling heavy. Reluctantly, he reached down and pulled up the duvet cover that had somehow been kicked to the end of the bed, covering them both. 

Monday came, as it always did. Fitz felt a twist in his stomach. He hadn’t seen Jemma since Sunday morning. By the time he’d woken up, arms still wrapped heavily around her, it was dark. His mum wasn’t due back until Sunday evening, so Jemma stayed. Sleep had come easy. She made it easy for him to relax. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to see her again. As he approached the school gates however, his hand clutched tightly around the strap of his back, it was Milton, not Jemma who became his primary concern. 

“What the fuck are you playing at Fitz?” Milton’s voice rang out.

Fitz’s stomach seemed to fall out of him and land flat onto the pavement with a thud. How did they find out? Who told them? Not Jemma, surely? He felt somehow violated. That had been just for them. No one else. 

“What?!” Fitz blurted, not thinking.

“Heard your mum was away on Saturday, didn’t tell anyone. What the fuck is going on with that?” 

Fitz melted with relief. They didn’t know. 

“J-just wasn’t thinking.” He stammered, still somehow unable to believe it.

His stomach jolted uncomfortably, and he felt his face fill with red. It wasn’t shame, or guilt. He’d done nothing wrong. Why did he feel like he had?

“What? Not thinking about the potential to get pished in your empty? That is literally unimaginable to me.” Milton whinged. 

Over his shoulder, Fitz caught sight of Jemma, filtering in through the school gates, stuck in the middle of the crowd. She didn’t look at him. He felt worse. 

“What did you get up to instead?” Milton’s voice broke his thoughts.

“N-nothing. Studying.” Fitz blurted.

It was the only thing he could think to say. 

“Jesus christ Fitz. I despair.” 

“Yup. I am the absolute worst.” Fitz mumbled, trying to smile, to joke.

“The literal worst.” Milton agreed, before moving off, through the school gates.

Fitz gave a small laugh in reply, but couldn’t help the heavy feeling that had fallen into the pit of his stomach. It had seemed to lift slightly at the sigh of Jemma, but now it had fully reinstated itself. Whatever it was, Fitz didn’t want to touch it or understand it. He just wanted it to go away. 

If Fitz had been aware of Jemma’s presence before, it was nothing to what it was now. Every hair on his body, every atom, every molecule, every tiny electrical current that ran through him, seemed directed towards her. She sat just along from him in Physics and Fitz felt every hair on the back of his neck stand up as she entered, as she passed by him. Fitz almost felt like he could hardly bear to be so close to her, and yet so far, as she took her seat behind him. Miss Kitsworth asked him to hand out some diagrams, and he almost jumped at the sound of her voice. Jemma’s fingers brushed his as he passed her the piece of paper. It felt akin to someone giving him a pleasant electric shock up his arm. His eyes caught hers, and again he found himself wondering if she felt the same. The desire to know her flared in his chest again. He wondered if that would ever go away, or be satisfied. 

At lunchtime his phone buzzed in his pocket. 

**Jemma:** My mum and my brother are away at a conference on Wednesday night. She told me yesterday. Do you want to come round?

They’d exchanged numbers on Sunday. Fitz had figured it made sense if they were going to see more of each other outside of school, and their encounters in Jemma’s kitchen weren’t exactly the best time to make plans. Fitz whipped his head up as soon as he’d finished reading the message. He couldn’t see her anywhere in the lunch hall. Glancing around carefully, making sure no one was looking over his shoulder, he typed back:

**Fitz:** Yeah, sure! I’ll tell mum they had to move football practise or something. Just after school? I won’t be able to stay late, school night and everything.

**Jemma:** Yeah, after school’s fine! And that’s fine too. Can you stay for dinner? 

And so Fitz found himself walking up the driveway to Jemma’s house on Wednesday evening, the gravel crunching under his feet. She was waiting for him, just at the bottom of the steps. She smiled at him, and Fitz felt the weight that had been stuck in his stomach since Monday morning, since Milton had accosted him, lift. He followed her inside, his hand reaching for hers, chasing the thrill of her touch again. He knew he’d missed her, but he hadn’t realised how much, until he felt her fingers close around his, and an ache that he hadn’t been aware of was suddenly gone. It didn’t take long until they were both naked again, Jemma grasping her metal headboard, gasping beautifully above him. If possible, this was better than the last time, Fitz fleetingly thought, as he flipped them over, driving into her, worshipping her skin with his lips. His head seemed to ring and vibrate as he came, and the world truly reduced to just him and Jemma. He wrapped himself tightly around her, and kissed her, long lazy kisses as they both came down, her hands, still cold somehow, pulling him towards her, keeping him there. Fitz couldn’t place it, but with Jemma, he felt a new kind of safety, a new kind of ease. Being like this with anyone else was simply unimaginable. He rolled away from her, closing his eyes. His brain still rang and he felt delightfully heavy. He could not remember a time in his life when he had felt so good, so happy. And it was Jemma. All Jemma. He thought this slightly lazily, as he felt himself return to some semblance of normal. Fitz felt her eyes on him again, and blinked his own opening, shifting slightly to look at her. 

“That was good?” She asked softly, a small smile on her face. 

Her breath was still heavy too. Fitz smiled as he remembered her face as she came. He could play it on a loop for the rest of his life and never be sick of it. He did that to her. He made her feel good. The thought stoked some strange male ego he hadn’t known had existed inside of him until last Saturday. 

“Yeah. Yeah that was class.” Fitz uttered, regaining the ability to speak somehow. 

They were quiet for a moment. Fitz rubbed his fingertips over her shoulder, enjoying the feel of her soft, smooth skin under his touch. He felt her tense slightly as he did so, and he stopped, catching her eyes with his own again. 

“You remember that football match, the final, when the whole year came out?” Jemma asked softly.

Fitz groaned. 

“Don’t remind me. I wished they’d just left everyone at school. I’d play to an empty stadium if they let me.” He said, worrying his hand across his forehead.

“I was watching you play that day. And honestly you looked so beautiful.” 

Jemma’s voice was gentle, but it wasn’t small. She was certain of what she was saying, that much Fitz knew. Slowly, he was learning to read her. To understand her. 

“I just kept thinking, kept wondering what it would be like to see you like this. Naked. Sated. And not even with me.” She breathed.

“Is that really weird?” She asked. 

Fitz felt her tense further underneath his fingers. He considered her a moment. 

“Yeah, yeah that is a bit weird Jemma.” He said after a moment. 

He felt her starting to pull away from him. Fitz knew that feeling well. Shame. 

“But, I think I understand it.” Fitz finished. 

Fitz felt her come back, felt her relax again. He did understand it. Hadn’t he felt something similar about her? Fitz thought back. He had. He supposed that it was desire. That word that people talked about, but that he had never really understood. Not in relation to a person at least. But now, with Jemma, he thought he finally got it. That pull, that urge to know her, to be with her always and ever present in his mind and in his gut, the fondness he felt for her. That had to be desire. Her eyes flitted down to his lips, and Fitz was unable to resist. He captured her lips with his own and allowed himself to melt into her, body and soul. 

They made plans to meet up at the weekend again. Both of their mum’s would be home, so Fitz suggested the beach. He picked her up, waiting at the very end of the driveway, behind the trees, so her mum wouldn’t see. They talked about everything on the drive. Jemma was so easy to talk to. It wasn’t like when he was with his friends. He could say anything to her, anything, and she would hold it sacred. Milton wasn’t exactly the type of person you could confide in, Sally was a gossip, and as for the rest of them, well they would just tease him. But Jemma took him seriously, and at his word. It was a blessed given with her. He felt safe with Jemma. The beach was deserted, as was the car park. Fitz assured her that it wasn’t really busy on a good day. Somehow her lips found his, and they fumbled into the back seat. It was almost thrillingly illicit, having sex in the back of his car, when anyone could happen upon them, Fitz thought as he thrust into her, but then Jemma let out a loud gasp that drove all other thoughts but her from his head. They fell asleep afterwards, Jemma tracing lazy patterns on his chest, Fitz enjoying the gentle heat of the sun that was coming in through the window. When they woke, they dressed, and Jemma grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the sand. No one from school ever came here, so they were fine on that score. They sat on a dune, Jemma’s head resting on his shoulder. A cold wind had appeared, but neither of them were ready to go home yet. Fitz thought that he would revel in every second he could with her. Somehow, the subject of the end of year prom was brought up. There was a fundraiser in a couple of weeks. Jemma had somehow been roped into helping. 

“Are you sure you don’t mind my being there?” She asked.

Her face was calm, but her voice gave her away. Fitz knew that hint of nerves now.

“No. Of course I wouldn’t.” Fitz assured her. 

“Why would I mind?” 

Jemma looked away from him, biting her cheek. Her hand skimmed lightly over the sand, toying with it. 

“Might be weird for you. Me, and all your friends in a nightclub together.” 

The nerves were still present in her voice. Fitz wanted more than anything to make them go away. 

“Just trying to imagine you selling raffle tickets at a school event.” Fitz joked, hoping this would help.

It did. Jemma let out a small snort of laughter. 

“Karen, Sally’s friend, asked me. Would have been rude of me to refuse a rare gesture of friendship.” Jemma replied. 

Fitz was glad to hear that her voice was clear now. There was something else though. Something he couldn’t place. He’d come quite a way in the past two weeks, in understanding Jemma, but there were still aspects of her that evaded him, confused him. 

“Fair enough.” Fitz smiled.

“The whole prom thing is a joke anyway. Stupid American tradition. Don’t get the point of it. I don’t know why they still do it.” He grumbled after a moment. 

It was true. He was dreading it really. But everyone else was going. 

“Point at any patriarchal structure in the world Fitz and say that.” Jemma pointed out.

Fitz had to give her that. 

“I hope you don’t find it too hard trying to resist me.” Jemma said, her voice quiet again. 

Her eyes were on him again. They were doing that thing where Fitz felt as though she was scanning every atom of him. 

“Don’t I always.” He smiled weakly. 

It was true. 

“Do you?” Jemma asked in reply. 

Fitz’s gut seemed to twist at her words. He didn’t want to understand her meaning, but his brain did it for him all the same. Jemma rested her head on his shoulder again, and Fitz shoved her words from his mind. He didn’t want to feel like that. He just wanted to be with her right now. 

Jemma started coming round to his on the afternoons after school when his mum was working. It made the most practical sense. Jemma never really knew when her mum or brother would be home, so this was the safest. No one knew. As far as his friends were aware, Fitz just had a lot of homework during the week, and as for Jemma, Fitz knew, deep in the pit of his stomach, that no one really paid much attention to her anyway, apart from him. Milton, to Fitz’s surprise, was the only one who had come close to the topic. Fitz had driven them to the chippy at lunchtime, and he and Milton had stayed behind in the car. 

“Here, you didn’t tell me your mum worked at the Simmons’s house.” Milton had said casually from the backseat.

Fitz had felt his heart drop. He couldn’t know.

“Yeah, she’s uh, she’s worked there for like a year now.” Fitz replied, trying to keep his voice level. 

“W-where did you hear that?” 

“Grant was telling me, you know her half brother. Hangs out with us at the pub sometimes.” Milton said. 

Fitz nodded. He knew Grant Ward by sight. Big man, dark hair. He’d listened in to a couple of the conversations he’d had with the rest of them down the pub. He said things very confidently, but Fitz wasn’t sure he was saying anything at all. Grant gave him the same feeling as his house did. Large, intimidating, uninviting. Cold. Jemma never talked about him. 

“So have you ever been to the mansion?” Milton sneered. 

“Yeah, couple of times, just to pick up mum.” Fitz said quietly. 

He didn’t look at Milton. Couldn’t. He’d know. Somehow he would, if Fitz looked at him right that second. 

“What’s it like inside?” Milton continued. 

Fitz wanted nothing more than for him to stop.

“Big.” 

“And what’s Jemma like in her natural habitat?” Milton grinned. 

Fitz felt sick.

“I-uuh, I don’t see much of her. Stays out of the way when I’m about.” He lied. 

“So she thinks of you as her wee butler eh?” Milton joked. 

Fitz wasn’t a violent person. He had a short temper sometimes, but he’d never hit anyone. But at those words, for the first time in his life, he felt the urge. He flexed his hand, from where it was clutched around the steering wheel. 

“Of course not!” 

“Well, your mum is her housemaid…” Milton continued.

“She’s a cleaner. She’s there a couple of times a week. That’s it.”   
  


It was an effort now to keep himself calm. His hand clenched around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. 

“Jemma not have a little bell to ring to get her attention?” Milton laughed cruelly. 

Fitz wanted to scream at him. But as always, the words seemed stuck in his throat. Milton seemed to have a fundamental misunderstanding of who Jemma was. She wasn’t some stuck up rich girl, like he seemed to think. She was so much more, so much better than that. Fitz was saved the mercy of answering him, by the car doors opening and someone chucking his poke of chips onto his lap. 

Seeing Jemma that evening felt different than usual. He seemed to understand now, better than he had before, what it must feel like to be her. If wankers like Milton said stuff like that about her all the time. What toll must that take? Fitz felt ashamed of himself. Why could he never do anything about it? Jemma seemed to sense his shift in mood, and caught his lips gently with her own. It didn’t solve anything, didn’t make his lack of action earlier go away, but it helped him forget. Yes, Jemma, naked and gasping in his arms was the most perfect distraction from reality, Fitz thought about an hour later, as he held her close, breaths both heavy as they came down from their highs. 

“Is there anyone you have a crush on in school?” Jemma breathed with a smile, bringing her head up from his shoulder. 

Fitz let out a breathless laugh. 

“I-I’m literally still inside you.” He replied in disbelief. 

Jemma gave a small laugh. 

“What about Sally?” She continued, regardless. 

“Why’d you say that?”

“She’s pretty. She clearly likes you.” Jemma smiled softly. 

It was the worst kept secret at school that Sally Webber had a crush on Fitz, one that Milton and the rest of them like to tease him about mercilessly. Fitz hated it. Sally was nice and all, but she was just a mate. 

“Nah. Don’t think of her like that really.” Fitz replied, trying to understand what Jemma meant by this conversation. 

“She has a nice… face.” Jemma considered. 

“So do you.” Fitz said without thinking. 

Jemma just smiled and kissed him again. He couldn’t understand it. It made Fitz wonder. Did she not know how much he liked her? How much she meant to him? They dressed, and Fitz’s mind seemed to wander. He sat in his desk chair, staring aimlessly at homework that he could do in his sleep, wondering. 

“What are you thinking about?” Jemma’s voice sounded from his bed. 

He smiled at the sight of her. She was wrapped in his duvet, her hair still mussed, homework on her lap. 

“Uni.” Fitz replied. 

Jemma quirked her head. Fitz recognised it as a silent invitation to say more, explain. 

“I don’t know why I put down law. Can’t even remember why I thought it was a good idea.”

“Money.” Jemma said without blinking. 

“Yeah.” He agreed. 

“I just- I can’t picture it. Like me in a suit, in a courtroom it just, it doesn’t compute. I-I just didn’t know what to put down.” He said, letting his thoughts spill out into mid air, as they did so often when Jemma was around. 

Jemma considered him for a moment. Fitz could almost see the gears turning in her head. 

“You should change to engineering.” She said as though it were obvious.

“What?” Fitz asked, in a kind of disbelief. 

“Do you mean that or are you joking?”   
  


“No. You should. You really should.” Jemma assured. 

It only took Fitz one glance at her face to know she was in complete earnest. 

“Physics is the one subject you really enjoy, add that to the fact that you’re always sketching designs, and there’s always new drawings up on that wall whenever I come over. And they’re good. You could do some remarkable things Fitz.” She continued. 

Fitz smiled. He hadn’t realised she’d taken so much notice. 

“Where would I study engineering?” He grumbled back. 

“You could apply to Oxford or Cambridge. You’re smart enough.” Jemma said plainly. 

She was applying to Cambridge. He knew that.

“You’re pretty confident you’re going to get into Cambridge aren’t you?” He smiled. 

Jemma just shrugged. 

“Then we’d be at Uni together. If I got in there too. I bet you’d pretend not to know me if we bumped into each other.” 

The words just slipped out. Fitz wasn’t even sure he’d meant them. He looked up at Jemma. She looked small again. 

“Sorry.” He said, not looking at her. 

“I’d never pretend not to know you Fitz.” She said, her voice quiet. 

“You wouldn’t?” He asked tentatively, bringing his eyes carefully up to hers again.

“No.” 

She was certain. Fitz knew. There was an awful quiet for a moment. 

“All right.” Fitz sighed. 

“I’ll put down for Engineering at Cambridge.”

“Really?!” 

Jemma’s face seemed to light up.

“Who gives a fuck about being realistic anyway?” Fitz smiled. 

They both laughed, and the awful moment seemed to disappear. 

Fitz went to the pub that Saturday. Milton had made him feel bad about not having everyone round at his last weekend. He didn’t mind really. A couple of pints and some good banter wouldn’t really be the end of the world. Sally Webber had worked her way next to him and was chatting incessantly in his ear. Fitz was only half listening. She was going on about some reality show she’d been watching. Nothing important. His phone lit up on the table, just as he drained his first pint. 

**Jemma:** What you up to? 

Fitz felt his stomach twist. Jemma never came down the pub. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her in here before, not even at New Years, when everyone came. He clicked his phone shut and stuffed it into his pocket. He couldn’t think about that right now. He tried to seem interested in whatever it was Sally was talking about now, trying to find shoes that matched her prom dress. Fitz tried to put Jemma out of his mind. She was another world entirely. 

Everyone seemed to be obsessed with talking about prom. It was incessant. Fitz couldn’t understand why everyone made such a big deal out of it. He’d had just about enough of it from Sally on Saturday night. And now Milton, of all people, was going on about who he was going to take. Fitz tried to ignore them, stuck his head into his revision for his English test. Milton wasn’t exactly quiet though. 

“What about Karen? No one’s asked her yet.” Someone said. 

“Nah. I’m holding out for Sally.” Milton sneered. 

The rest of the group met this with scoffs and laughter. 

“No chance mate. She’s well after Fitz taking her, isn’t she.” One of them piped up, slapping Fitz hard on the shoulder. 

Fitz continued to give them none of his notice. If he could melt into the bench right now, he would. Jemma appeared, headed for her locker. Fitz shot her a small smile. No one would see from that angle. She didn’t return it. She looked harassed. 

“Unless, I can persuade the lovely Jemma Simmons to go with me!” Milton jeered after her. 

Jemma ignored him, and continued to sort her books. 

“How about it Simmons? Fancy coming to prom with me?” Milton asked, his voice filled with a playful malice that made Fitz clench his fist again.

“Nope.” Jemma replied in a flat tone, not even looking at him. 

“Oh you think you’re too good for me? Do you?” 

Milton’s voice had changed now. Aggressive, defensive. Fitz felt ill. He couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t. The words stuck in his throat. His knuckles were white. 

“I am. I am too good for you.” Jemma shot back, turning to face Milton, her eyes steely. 

Fitz felt Milton stiffen behind him. He didn’t want to know what was coming. He wanted to evaporate. 

“A man would have to be fairly desperate to go near you anyway. Ugly, flat chested bitch.” Milton spat at her. 

The group behind Fitz let out a chorus of oohs and muttered laughter. Never in his life had he ever wanted to be anywhere else so much. Milton wouldn’t stop at his say so. And to do anything would make them think… He watched Jemma walk away, and his entire person seemed to ache. He couldn’t remember feeling worse. He was going to Jemma’s tonight. He’d talk to her then. Explain. Apologise. Do something. Anything. 

Fitz felt more unease than he had in weeks as he drove up to the Simmons’s house. Her mother and brother always worked late on a Monday, so they were safe. He saw her through one of the windows as he got out of the car. She was reading. Fitz rapped on the window and she looked up. She didn’t smile. He had gotten used to her smiling when she saw him. Jemma got up and let him in. They both stayed silent as she made tea. Fitz saw her retreating into herself again, and he couldn’t bare it. 

“Are you alright?” He finally asked. 

It probably wasn’t the right thing to say. 

“How was your weekend?” Jemma asked instead of a response. 

Fitz was confused. He thought she’d want to talk about what happened. But then again, when had she ever done anything he had expected? It took him a moment to answer, taken aback by the suddenness, the boldness of the question. 

“A-alright. Went to the pub, j-just with the regular lot. Nothing fancy. Some of them ended up at the ghost, but uh, I went home early. Didn’t fancy it.” Fitz managed to stammer out. 

Jemma furrowed her brow. This either meant she was angry or confused. Given the circumstances Fitz wondered if it could possibly be both. 

“The what??” She asked. 

“The uh, the ghost. The ghost house. Old abandoned house behind the school.” Fitz explained. 

Jemma just nodded. 

“I thought everyone knew about that.” Fitz said sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“Not me.” 

Her voice was quiet, but cold. She was upset. She had every right to be. Fitz felt his face burn red. He felt ashamed of himself, but he couldn’t exactly pinpoint why. Perhaps there were too many reasons. He brought his tea to his lips, and took a sip, unsure of what to say. She’d caught him off guard. She was good at doing that. 

“I want to see it.” Jemma’s voice broke the heavy silence. 

Fitz could have choked on his tea. 

“W-what?” 

“The ghost house. Will you take me?” Jemma asked plainly. 

Fitz knew by now to expect the unexpected with Jemma but this felt like something else. But what he could not say. He had come to know so much of her these past few weeks. He knew intimate things about her, things only he knew. But he was acutely aware that he did not know everything. She didn’t make it easy sometimes. Fitz couldn’t help but wonder why. He recognised that she opened up to him, but still, she did not say everything. He liked her regardless. Which is why he gave her a gentle nod. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure I can take you.” He replied after a moment. 

She was silent as he drove. Fitz didn’t want to intrude, so he stayed silent too. He glanced over at her as they pulled up to the old derelict building. She was wearing an expression that Fitz couldn’t read. He hung back as she wandered around, her eyes wide. Occasionally she toed at something, a lone brick, an empty beer can. Fitz wished he had the ability to read her mind, then at least he might know what to say. After a while, Jemma turned to him, her eyes catching his in the way only she knew how. 

“I would do anything for you Fitz. Do you know that?” 

Her voice was quiet. Fitz’s heart seemed to be pounding against his chest. 

“I would let you do anything to me.” She continued. 

Fitz shifted on his feet. 

“D-d-do you like making me feel uncomfortable?” 

It was the first thing he could think to say. Jemma just stared at him, her gaze hard. 

“I’m not making you feel anything Fitz.” 

Fitz opened his mouth to protest but Jemma spoke again before the words came to his tongue.

“Maybe I should just leave you alone.” 

He heard the hurt in her voice. 

“No!” He cried. 

“No. I-- I-- Jemma I don’t… I don’t want that. Do you?” 

She shrugged at him. 

“I’d be surprised if you did. It seems like you enjoy it.” 

He had no idea where these words were coming from. He just knew that something powerful was driving them up his throat and out his mouth. 

“I’m sorry Jemma. I-I’m just I’m no good at this.” He stammered. 

“I thought that you liked me.”

His voice went small now. 

“I do like you.” Jemma replied quietly. 

Fitz’s heart seemed to wrench.

“If you didn’t want this anymore I’d be upset.” He admitted. 

“I wouldn’t be happy, Jemma.” 

She stared at him. Her bottom lip seemed to shake. 

“You don’t mind then, that I’m ugly, and flat chested then?” She asked quietly.

A light seemed to turn on in Fitz’s head. 

“I’m sorry he said that.” 

Fitz hung his head, ashamed. 

“Is that what you think of me too?” 

Jemma’s voice cracked as she spoke. Fitz felt his chest ache. 

“No. Never. Milton, he, just, he thinks you look down on him. That’s why I think he said that.” 

Jemma just stared at him. Fitz just wanted to make this better. He didn’t want to lose her. 

“I would miss you, if you didn’t want to see me anymore.” He managed to get out.

His throat seemed to have gone unbearably dry. Jemma walked towards him tentatively, trying to catch his eyes again. 

“You would miss sleeping with me?” 

It almost wasn’t a question. 

“Yeah. A lot.” 

It was an easy answer. Jemma moved closer and her eyes flitted down from his, to his lips. Fitz knew what that meant by now. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against her lips, relief filling him when he felt her pressing back. 

“Can we go back to my house now please?” She asked gently, resting her forehead against his as they parted.

“Of course.” 

Fitz stepped back and reached down, taking her hand into his own, before walking towards the car. He was still confused slightly. Jemma didn’t make it easy sometimes. But then again, he admitted to himself, neither did he. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!! I will admit I am SUPER NERVOUS about this chapter, I have NEVER written anything like this before and I can only hope that I did a good job. Thank you sosososossosososososo much for reading and I will (hopefully, maybe) see you next week. 
> 
> Skye :)


	3. Broken.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the school year is approaching, and Fitz and Jemma are seeing more of each other than ever. But after a night out gone terribly wrong, Fitz makes a bad decision that leaves them both devastated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific trigger warnings: Depiction of groping/sexual harassment and discussions of domestic violence.
> 
> I’m genuinely shocked and pleasantly surprised at myself that this chapter is finished as early as this. I just had like three really good writing days in a row and bam bam bam, here it is. I’m especially surprised bc this chapter deals with SOME HEAVY SHIT. I have put some chapter specific trigger warnings above, just in case, cause as I said, this chapter deals with A LOT OF THINGS. Anyway, I will forgo my usual long ramble that I normally put on these things and just let you get to the reading!

Fitz felt the music pulsing in his chest. He wasn’t really sure why he was here at all. Nightclubs weren’t exactly his scene. He shifted his lukewarm glass of lemonade in his hand. Everyone else was here. Besides, it was a fundraiser for the prom. He’d look a bit of a dick if he didn’t turn up. Fitz didn’t know why he’d said he’d drive. Clubs were only really bearable once you’d had a drink. Everyone around him was talking noisily, shouting really over the pounding music. Sally was hovering near him, but he’d long stopped paying attention to her. Jemma was here. She was dancing at the moment, with Karen. Fitz couldn’t stop looking at her. The world might stop spinning if he did. Fitz had never seen her like this. It was carefree in a way that wasn’t possible when it was just them, alone. She looked free. He felt warmth coursing through his veins as he watched her. Desire, he recognised. Jemma looked beautiful. She was beautiful anyway, Fitz thought. But the black dress, she had on, that hugged her just so, it was breathtaking. He watched as Karen leaned in towards Jemma, telling her something. Jemma’s eyes found his. She smiled at him, and continued dancing, not breaking his gaze. The warmth in Fitz’s veins seemed to turn to fire. 

Jemma and Karen eventually broke away from the dancefloor and joined the group at the bar. They were met with the usual jeers, but Fitz paid them no heed. Jemma was right next to him.This was the closest they’d been all night. Her presence was overwhelming. He reached down and grazed her hand with his own, his fingertips grasping for hers. Even now, even after all those weeks together, after everything they’d done together, her touch still sent a spark up his arm, and a shiver down his back. It was so crowded, no one would see. It would be easy enough to pull away if anyone did. 

“Are you going to get back to selling those raffle tickets or what?” Sally barked at Jemma.

Right. Jemma was supposed to be helping with the fundraising for the prom. That’s why she was really here. Jemma just stared at Sally for a moment, but before she could even open her mouth, Milton’s dulcet tones interrupted the group. He seemed to pull a man out of the crowd. He was older, definitely not school age. Fitz didn’t like the look of him. He was small and slimy looking. 

“This bloke right here might buy some tickets off you!” Milton declared, his voice showing off just how drunk he really was.

He seemed to shove the man at Jemma, and he slotted himself between her and Fitz, breaking that small point of precious contact. The man had a loud mouth. He went around the group, slapping the guys on the shoulder, commenting on the shortness of the girls' dresses, before inserting himself back between Fitz and Jemma. 

“Who’s your friend?” The man asked, looking Jemma up and down with a leer. 

Fitz wanted to hit him. 

“That’s Jemma, Jemma Simmons. You’ll know her half brother, Grant Ward. He hangs about with us sometimes.” Milton explained. 

The man looked Jemma up and down again. 

“Oh yeah, yeah, Grant, I know him.” He leered at her. 

Fitz took in a shaky breath. 

“Andy might want to buy some tickets off you. Go on Simmons.” Milton laughed cruelly. 

“Are you selling tickets?” The man, Andy, asked in mocking condescension. 

Fitz felt his hands beginning to shake. He wanted to leave. To grab Jemma’s hand and run away. Away from this awful man, away from this stupid club. But he couldn’t. 

“I’ll tell you what…” Andy continued with a grin that made Fitz shudder. 

“I’ll buy ten tickets if you have a dance with me.” 

He leered at Jemma again. Fitz wanted to disappear. He couldn’t stand this. The group jeered, and Fitz’s stomach lurched. 

“She’ll have a dance with me!” Andy crowed, grabbing Jemma, putting one arm around her shoulder. 

Fitz didn’t have to look at Jemma to know she was intensely uncomfortable. He could feel it coming off of her in waves. The group continued to jeer, and so did Andy. 

“I don’t want to dance with you.” Jemma’s voice was firm. 

“Oh you’ll have a dance!” Andy continued, ignoring her. 

Jemma was squirming now, trying to get away from him. Fitz wanted to do something, anything, but it was as if he was frozen to the spot. Not again. He couldn’t do this again. Make it stop. Please, make it stop. Make it all go away. 

“I don’t want to fucking dance with you!” Jemma shouted, trying as hard as she could to get away from him. 

He had a grip on her shoulder. The world seemed simultaneously to slow down, and work at double speed. Fitz watched as Andy reached up and roughly grabbed Jemma’s breast. He seemed to go very hot and very cold in a matter of seconds. Jemma threw his arm off of him and the group seemed to fall silent. She stared at him, in what Fitz seemed to recognise as horror, before running. For a moment, Fitz couldn’t seem to move. He just watched Jemma’s retreating back. 

“You’re a fucking arsehole!” Karen spat at Andy. 

The words seemed to break Fitz, and he was able to move again. He found her outside. The rest of them were hot on this tail, but Fitz really didn’t give a shit about them. Karen got to her first. Fitz’s entire person seemed to wrench at the sight of her. She was sat on the tarmac outside, her back pressed against the rough stone wall, tears falling down her cheeks. Her breath was heavy, that much Fitz could make out from a distance. He wanted to tell them all to just fuck off. To wrap her in his arms. To rip that arsehole limb from bloody limb. Karen knelt next to Jemma and started saying things that Fitz couldn’t quite hear. His ears were ringing. Whether that was from the music or anger, he couldn’t quite say. 

“Look, Andy’s a sound enough guy if you get to know him. That was just a bit of fun.” Milton said into the quiet of the night air. 

Fitz turned and looked at him. How on earth could he be making excuses for that absolute dick?? Jemma just continued to cry, as Karen rubbed her shoulders. 

“It was funny.” Sally said, her voice cold and cruel. 

Fitz couldn’t believe it. Milton, well he could have half predicted that reaction from Milton, but Sally??? Did she hate Jemma that much that she found it funny to watch her be assaulted in a club? 

“Go hang around with Andy if you think that’s funny.” Karen spat at her. 

“We were all laughing a minute ago.” Sally protested. 

Fitz felt himself reach some sort of breaking point. Something washed over him like he had never felt before. Or perhaps he had. Perhaps he’d just shoved it down before. But now he found he really couldn’t give a singular shit what anyone thought of him. 

“No we weren’t.” 

He felt like a different person. He was angry. So angry. Upset too. He wanted everyone else to go away, and for it just to be him and Jemma. He knew he could make her feel better. Everyone else, Karen excepted, were just being arseholes about this. He couldn’t be fucked with it. 

“Are you okay?” His voice went soft as Jemma’s eyes found his again. 

“Oh, so you want to kiss her all better now do you?” Sally half laughed, half shouted at him. 

Her voice was cruel and mocking, and Fitz was done with it. 

“Would you just fuck off Sally?!” 

He didn’t shout at her. But he meant it. He meant it with every single fibre of his being. Sally stared at him, her mouth open for a second, before storming off, the click of her heels echoing in the night. 

“Do you want to go home? I’m driving, I can take you.” Fitz said softly, directing himself back to Jemma.

Jemma just nodded. The pull towards her, the one that was ever constant in him, seemed to ignite. He needed her to be safe. More than he needed him to be safe. He moved towards her, and Karen handed him Jemma’s bag and jacket, as she helped Jemma up. 

“Thank you for being so kind Karen.” Jemma said, her voice smaller than Fitz had ever heard it. 

It seemed to stab at him, right in his gut. Milton gave him a look as he passed him, and Fitz glared at him. He was in no mood for him right now. No mood for the insinuations behind Milton’s eyes, and in the quirk of his mouth. He opened the car door for Jemma and helped her in, handing her her things. He turned off the radio, noticing that she squirmed when he started the engine. For a while, they drove in silence. He knew he should be keeping his eyes on the road but Fitz couldn’t help glancing over at Jemma every few seconds. She just stared blankly forward. Fitz felt that ache again. He just wanted her to be okay again. 

“Are you okay?” He asked after a while. 

He had no idea what else to say. 

“I feel like an idiot.” 

Her voice was quiet and raspy, like she was holding back tears. 

“You didn’t do anything.” Fitz assured, glancing over at her again. 

Jemma didn’t say anything. Her eyes just stared glassily into the distance. Fitz searched around, trying to think of what to say. Nothing seemed right. Nothing could make this better. They reached a junction. The light was red. Fitz watched it and seemed to think of something.

“D-do you want to come to mine? Not for any uh, funny reasons, I wouldn’t dream... just um, just if you didn’t want to go back to yours. If you didn’t want to be on your own I mean. J-just if you wanted?” Fitz stammered. 

“Will Lorna not be there?” Jemma asked quietly. 

“Nah, Mum’ll probably be in bed.” He said quickly. 

“What if she’s still up?” 

He heard the concern in her voice. She didn’t want him to get in trouble. It made Fitz want to smile. 

“Mum’s pretty easy going. I don’t think she’ll mind.” Fitz smiled gently, trying his best to sound comforting. 

“She seems like a really good parent.” Jemma mused quietly, her gaze returning to some unknown point in the distance. 

Fitz thought that this was an odd thing to say, especially given everything that had happened this evening, but he let her talk. He didn’t want to discourage her, not now. 

“Yeah, I think so.” Fitz agreed. 

He thought she was brilliant really, given everything that they’d been through, but Fitz wasn’t about to voice that now. 

“She must be proud of you.” Jemma’s voice sounded again. 

It was getting louder, but it still held a kind of smallness, one that Fitz wanted to banish from ever appearing in her voice again. 

“You’ve turned out so well, as a human being.” She continued. 

Fitz felt his stomach drop. 

“How have I turned out well?” He asked. 

She was confusing him now. He didn’t agree. 

“You’re a nice person.” She stated, her eyes back on him. 

His stomach lurched again. 

“Do you know how rare that is?” Jemma continued. 

Fitz just stared at the road ahead of him, gripping the steering wheel tight. Jemma thought too highly of him. Sometimes he wondered if he was even a good person at all. But Jemma thought he was good. Was nice. His stomach seemed to steady out, and something in his heart leapt. He took one hand off the wheel and placed it on her leg in lieu of responding. He knew it was the right thing, when slowly, her hand came to cover his, her thumb rubbing gently at his knuckles.

Laying with Jemma in his arms was truly the best feeling in the world, Fitz thought. His mum had been asleep when they came in. They’d snuck upstairs, and Fitz had lent her one of his t-shirts, after Jemma had admitted that the dress wasn’t the most comfortable. And now she lay in his arms, tucked under his duvet, his fingers playing softly with her hair. Jemma gazed up at him, and he felt her breath softly tickling his face. 

“You went out with Sally before didn’t you?” Jemma’s voice broke the long silence. 

“Not really.” Fitz whispered back. 

One ill advised snog at the ghost, after a few drinks, didn’t really count as ‘going out’ in Fitz’s mind. 

“Did you sleep with her?” Jemma murmured. 

“No. Like I said, when we slept together that first time, you were the first. The only one I’ve done that with. We-we snogged, last year, and Milton saw, and he- he thought he saw us doing more than he actually did and, well, it got stuck in the rumour mill for a while.” Fitz said. 

He’d hated that. He’d barely placed his hands on Sally’s legs and Milton was telling the whole school that they’d been going at it up against the back wall of the ghost.

“But it wasn’t exactly the kind of thing where, f-feelings were involved. Alcohol played a bigger part in that actually.” Fitz admitted. 

It actually felt nice to tell her. For one person to know what had actually happened. 

“And what about when you’re with me?” Jemma asked tentatively. 

“Are your feelings involved with me?” 

Fitz blinked at her. She had to ask?

“Obviously.” He assured softly. 

“Who is it obvious to?” She asked, catching his gaze. 

Fitz stared at her. He felt ashamed of himself again. Jemma rolled slightly away from him, staring up at his ceiling. Fitz watched her. She was thinking. He could almost see the process being mapped out on her face in the darkness. 

“Fitz?” She said, her voice very very quiet now. 

“Yeah?” 

She was worrying him now. Her lips twitched, for a moment. Fitz wondered if she couldn’t think what to say. Or maybe she couldn’t think of how to say it. He understood that feeling well enough.

“Y-you’d never, you’d never hit a woman, would you?” 

Her voice was tiny. Fitz almost recoiled. She didn’t think he would- would she?? But then his moment of panic subsided and the events of the evening came flooding back to him. Her question made some unfortunate sense. He scanned her face, trying to work it out, work her out. 

“Christ, no. W-why would you ask that?” He stumbled out. 

“I don’t know.” She mumbled back, her eyes still fixed on the ceiling. 

Fitz continued to study her face. He didn’t know how, but he knew there was something she wasn’t saying. There was more to this question. He didn’t want to prod, so he stayed silent, still watching her. Her mouth twitched again, struggling to find words. 

“My dad used to hit my mum.” 

Her voice was quiet, so quiet. Fitz took in a long shaky breath. Mr Simmons had died about five years ago. Had just walked into his office, and dropped dead one afternoon. Or at least that’s what people had said. It had been awful. Now that he thought about it, it was about then that people had started saying Jemma was odd. After her father had died. Fitz felt himself burn with shame again. He felt complicit. 

“Oh god. Jemma, I’m so sorry.” He replied, after her words had sunk in. 

A thought occurred to him. Each one was worse than the last. He had to ask. To know. 

“D-did he ever hit you?” 

A tear rolled down Jemma’s face. 

“No.”   
  


It seemed like all she could manage. Fitz took in a deep breath and steeled himself. 

“My dad hit my mum too.”

He’d never said the words out loud before. He’d never told anyone.

“They only got married because my mum got pregnant. I think he resented that. He wasn’t nice to her. To either of us. He left. Got chucked in prison a few years ago. We’re better off without him.” He continued. 

It was like a weight had lifted from his chest. Here was someone who knew. Who understood. Tears welled up fast and furiously in Jemma’s eyes. 

“I would never hurt you okay. Never. I-I can get angry sometimes, but I would never, never hurt you. I don’t think I could. You make me really happy Jemma.”

The tears fell thickly down Jemma’s face. Fitz wanted to take it away, everything she was feeling. Feel it himself. That pull to her flared in him again, and he thought, no, he knew what it meant. He couldn’t ignore it, or push it down anymore.

“I love you, Jemma. I do. I’m not just saying that to try and make you feel better or anything. I do. I’m in love with you.”

Fitz had no idea where it came from, but as soon as he said it, he knew it was true. The tears just seemed to fall faster and thicker down Jemma’s face. She leaned into him, and sobbed into his shoulder. Fitz didn’t blame her. It had been quite a night. 

Fitz smiled as he awoke. Jemma’s legs were tangled in his, her hand clasped around his own. There wasn’t much space in his little single bed, but with Jemma there, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. They both shifted sleepily, waking gently. Jemma suddenly moved with a start, picking up her phone from his bedside table and looking at it. 

“Shit!” She cried, throwing off the duvet, getting up and scrambling around for her things.

A million things suddenly flew through Fitz’s head. 

“What?! What is it?” He asked, shooting up to stare at her. 

“I thought I’d set an alarm!” Jemma cried, picking her dress up from the floor. 

Fitz blinked, staring across the room, where his old battered looking alarm clock sat on his desk. It was almost noon. Fitz liked to sleep in, but it had been a while, thanks to Jemma, that he had slept in this late. 

“I can drive you if you want?” Fitz offered sleepily, rubbing at his eyes.

“No, no it’s fine. She’ll recognise your car. I’ll get a taxi.” Jemma quickly replied, divesting herself of his t-shirt and pulling her dress up her body.

Fitz chucked some clothes on himself, and watched as Jemma ran her fingers through her mussed up hair, and phoned the taxi company at the same time. They were halfway down the stairs when Fitz heard the latch go on the front door, his mum walking in with bags of shopping in her hands. She stared at them both for a moment, taking in the sight before her. A small grin spread across her face. Fitz felt like he was going to pass out. 

“Hello sweetheart.” Lorna smiled kindly at Jemma.

Lorna had always liked Jemma. That fact seemed to take the edge off the rush of panic that had spread through Fitz’s entire being. 

“Hi Lorna. I’m sorry I-I was just going.” Jemma blurted. 

She squeezed her way past Fitz and hurried out of the still open front door. Fitz watched her go, not really wanting to look at his mum. He felt himself turn red again, and dared a glance down at his mother. He felt her eyes on him. Lorna was still grinning, and let out a small laugh as he looked at her. She offered him one of the bags of shopping, which he took silently, and made his way down the rest of the stairs, closing the front door as he passed. He didn’t want to know what was coming. But he had to ask. 

“What?” Fitz asked, as they reached the small kitchen. 

“What’s so funny?” He sighed. 

Lorna turned from where she was unpacking her bag of shopping, and smiled at him. 

“Did you think I didn’t know?” 

Fitz was taken aback. Now that he hadn’t expected. He thought no one knew. They’d been so careful. 

“W-what?!” He spluttered. 

“Well I knew  _ someone  _ was coming over here in the afternoons. Your bedroom hasn’t been that tidy in years Leo. I’m not stupid. And of course, I do work at her house. Doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together Leo.” Lorna smiled. 

Fitz gaped at her for a second. Had it really been that obvious? A new spark of panic seemed to rush through him. 

“Y-you’re not gonna tell anyone are you?” He blurted without thinking. 

It was the first thing that had come to his head. Until about five minutes ago, it had just been him and Jemma in that world. It was theirs. No one knew. And that was how he liked it. He didn’t think he could bear the jeers and taunts he would get. Mad Leopold Fitz and Mental Jemma Simmons were going at it, they would say. They’d both be branded as lunatics. He wouldn’t hear the end of it. Not for as long as he lived. He didn’t even allow himself to begin to think about what Jemma’s mother would say. Lorna stared at him. Fitz hadn’t seen that look on her face before, but it wasn’t hard to work out what it meant. 

“Why shouldn’t I tell anyone?” She asked. 

She’d stopped unpacking her shopping now, turned towards him, her brow knit together. 

Fitz wracked his brain for an answer. What was the truth? Why couldn’t she tell? He knew why. He just didn’t want to say it. Acknowledge it. 

“J-just that it would cause a fair wee bit of annoyance for the both of us.” Fitz replied, not looking at her. 

Lorna stopped. He could feel her eyes on him. He wanted this conversation to end. He never wanted to discuss Jemma with her ever again. 

“Does Jemma have a boyfriend or something?” Lorna asked after a moment. 

Fitz shook his head. 

“No.” Fitz said quietly.

He looked up at her tentatively. His mother was staring at him, like she never had before. Finally, she gave her head a small shake and turned back to her shopping. 

“Jesus, Leo, I don’t think I want to know.” She said. 

Fitz stared at her for a second. He needed to be certain. Lorna looked up at him again, and seemed somehow, to read his mind.

“I won’t be gossiping about your sex life Leo. You’ve no need to worry there.” 

Her voice was somewhere between resignation and concern. Fitz was just glad that this conversation was over. He had no idea what he would do if anyone else found out. 

Fitz’s worst fears seemed to be confirmed when he went into school on Monday. He’d had several texts over the rest of the weekend, from Milton, from Sally, from the rest of them. He’d patched all of them. He didn’t want to speak to anyone. Unfortunately, they were all gathered on the benches outside his locker. He just wanted to get his physics book and go. The jeers started before he could brace himself for it. 

“Ooh here he comes!” A voice sounded from the crowd. 

Fitz seriously considered turning around and telling Ms Kitsworth he’d left his book at home. She liked him, she probably wouldn’t mind. But he found himself outside of his locker before his feet could take him back. 

“Have you been ignoring me all fucking weekend?” Milton’s voice came from over the jeers. 

Fitz ignored him. He was the last person he wanted to talk to right now. Fitz fumbled with his books, trying to block him out. 

“So, did you bang her the other night or what?” Milton continued. 

Fitz felt, the now familiar, red mist descending on him. He tried to think of anything to block them out. A physics problem, the issue he was having with his latest design, what he had for his tea last night. Anything. 

“I heard you looked very cosy heading off together.” Another voice came from the crowd behind him. 

Bullshit. He hadn’t even touched her until they got into the car. All he’d done is hold her coat and her bag and walked her to the car. This was why they could never know.

“The whole school’s talking about it.” Someone else laughed. 

Fitz felt sick. The whole school was talking about him and Jemma. He felt himself starting to shake. 

“Come on!! Did anything actually happen?” Milton asked. 

Fitz could hear the laugh in his voice. 

“Of course it didn’t. Don’t be thick.” Fitz managed to get out, still determinedly looking into his locker. 

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did. She’s not a bad looking girl…” Milton said.

Fitz wanted to scream. Was this not the same Milton who called her an ugly, flat chested bitch a few weeks ago?

“... when she makes a massive fucking effort.” Milton finished with a cruel laugh. 

They’d made endless jokes about her dressing up the other night. Fitz had ignored them. He thought she’d looked beautiful, and he’d been too caught up at looking at her to pay their stupid comments much attention. The group laughed nastily in a chorus at his words. 

“Yeah, she’d just mentally deranged.” Someone added. 

Fitz shut his eyes. He couldn’t stop the shaking now. He took in a deep breath and let it back out gently through his mouth. Everything was stuck and he couldn’t do anything. He was angry and he was ashamed of himself. He needed to do something. 

“You’re all being so nasty! What the hell has she ever done to you?” Karen’s voice sounded. 

Her words washed over Fitz like a cool wave. He wanted to thank her. He couldn’t. 

“I think the real question is, what’s she’s done to Fitz? Hiding away in his locker there. Come on, spit it out Fitz! You screwed her didn’t you!” Milton taunted. 

Fitz knew he was either very white or very red. 

“No.” 

It was the only thing he could get out. He needed to get away. Finally he was able to shove his damned physics book into his bag, and he closed his locker with a slam. 

“Well I feel sorry for her.” Karen said. 

He wished he could be as free as Karen. 

“Oh me too.” Milton said mockingly. 

“I think Fitz should make it up to her! Cheer her up a bit!” Milton laughed cruelly as Fitz began to speed off, away from them as fast as he could. 

“You should ask her to the prom!” Someone else added with a mocking laugh. 

Fitz didn’t know where his feet were taking him until he arrived. He slammed the cubicle door shut, locking it firmly and felt himself sliding down the wall. His breath was coming quick and fast and he balled his fists up and rubbed them into his eyes. His head fell between his knees, and he let himself shake. He wondered if it would ever stop. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t go on like this. He had to do something. Throw them off somehow. His breath slowed and his mind became clearer. An obvious solution came to his brain. Yeah, he knew they’d leave him alone about Jemma after that. He’d do it at lunchtime.

Sally was standing with the rest of them outside at lunch. Fitz steeled himself as he made his way over. What other choice did he have? It was this or be branded insane for the rest of his life. 

“Hiya.” He said tentatively. 

“Can I have a word?” He asked, doing his best to keep looking at her. 

Sally just nodded, and they wandered away from the group. 

“Look, I’m sorry about the other night.” Fitz said quietly, not quite reaching her eyes. 

He didn’t mean it. 

“You mean when you told me to fuck off?” 

Her voice sounded hurt. He still wasn’t exactly sorry he’d said it. This was a necessary evil however. 

“I’m sorry about that.” 

Liar. Sally just shook her head at him again. 

“I’m sure Jemma was thrilled. She’s obviously in love with you.” Sally spat at him. 

Fitz gulped. He hadn’t expected that. 

“I don’t think so.” 

The lies came easy now that he’d started. Or was that a lie. She’d never said it. Sally had never asked how he felt. Maybe it wasn’t a lie. 

“So you’re saying that there’s nothing going on there?” Sally asked defensively. 

Ah. Now he had to lie again. 

“Yeah. Nothing.” Fitz said, trying to keep his voice steady as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. 

“Didn’t look that way.” She countered. 

Fitz wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Couldn’t think of another lie. 

“You acted like a complete weirdo.” 

“Yeah, I know.” He said quietly.

He didn’t know why he was agreeing. Sally was the one who was being an arsehole that night. He needed to get the point. Fitz wasn’t even sure she’d say yes. Clearly she was still pissed off at him. He powered on anyway. 

“Listen, I-ah, I was-uh, I wanted to ask you something.” He stammered. 

He wasn’t sure he liked how Sally’s mouth quirked up knowingly at the edges. 

It was Monday, so Fitz headed to Jemma’s after school. He’d have to tell her. She’d find out eventually but, he didn’t want her to hear it from some arsehole in the corridor. He’d rather she heard it straight from him. He rang the doorbell, as he always did when it was just Jemma in the house by herself. It felt polite somehow. He couldn’t help twisting his hands together as he waited. Fitz was nervous. He did not want to think about why. She’d find out eventually. Fitz watched as she came towards him through the glass door. She had a smile on her face, that for just a moment, made his stomach lift. Jemma made tea, and they took it back to her room. They talked for a bit, but Fitz knew he was really just delaying the inevitable. He would have to tell her. There was a pause in their conversation, and Fitz decided that this was his moment. He swallowed hard, twisting his cup in his hands. In hindsight he probably shouldn’t have started with the words: “I need to tell you something.” Jemma looked like a deer in headlights. Her eyes pulled away from his and fell on some undetermined point on the floor. 

“I-I-I-uh, I asked Sally to the prom today.” 

He could barely get it out. Jemma closed her eyes. Shit. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Her eyes were normally her biggest giveaway. 

“It’s not a big deal or anything. I-I just, I thought you should hear it from me.” Fitz continued, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. 

Jemma stayed silent, her eyes still shut, her face entirely unreadable to him. 

“It-it’s not romantic or anything, we-we’re just going as friends.” Fitz rambled on. 

Why was he continuing to talk? He felt like every word he was saying was making it worse. Whatever it was. Jemma slowly opened her eyes, but she did not look at him. Fitz put his mug down, and began fidgeting with his hands again. 

“Like we’re just friends?” Jemma asked, her voice barely audible. 

Fitz swallowed hard. 

“No, Jemma. No, we’re… that’s- thats different.” He quickly spat out. 

It felt like the first honest thing he’d said all day. It probably was. 

“Are you sleeping with her?” 

Fitz shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was. Jemma hadn’t exactly beaten about the bush with these kinds of things before.

“No!” Fitz quickly insisted. 

He didn’t know why this was so important, but it was. 

“Would you like to?” 

This question felt much worse than the first. She was looking at him now. Her voice was cold. So cold, Fitz could almost feel it.

“No. No, of course not Jemma.” 

He was panicking now. He didn’t want to lose her. Jemma just stared at him, hard. It was awful. 

“You’re pissed off with me.” His voice was small.

He was a coward and he knew it. He couldn’t even look at her anymore. 

“I don’t really care to be honest.” 

Jemma’s voice was still steely. That’s how Fitz knew she was lying. And it hurt. 

“I just think that if you still have a thing for her you should tell me.” She spat at him.

Fitz couldn’t think of anything to say. He was just trying to protect them both. 

“I don’t. But clearly that’s not what the issue is here Jemma.” He finally managed to get out. 

“Then what is it Fitz? I would love to know!” Jemma’s voice shook. 

  
  


It felt like someone was tearing apart his chest from the inside. He couldn’t say. He couldn’t. He couldn’t even admit it. This was awful.

“I think you should go, Fitz.” Jemma said quietly. 

Fitz just stared at her for a moment. Tears were beginning to fill in her eyes. Fitz didn’t want to see them. They made it worse.

“You should go!” She half shouted, her voice hard and unmoving. 

He just nodded. He couldn’t bear this. Fitz left, got into his car and drove. He didn’t know where he was going. He just was. His head was entirely in a fog. Eventually he pulled over at the side of some country road he barely recognised. He fisted his face into his hands and let out a deep breath. All he wanted to do was make this feeling go away. He hit his hand against the steering wheel hard in frustration. All he could do was rationalise what he’d done. This was better, he tried to tell himself. It couldn’t go on forever. But that didn’t help the ache that had begun in his chest that had formed the second he’d seen the look on Jemma’s face. 

It dawned on Fitz, as he was lying in bed that night, that he’d have to tell his mum. If she’d noticed that Jemma had been coming over, she’d notice that she’d stopped. Fitz let out a deep sigh. He wished it had never happened. Not the being with Jemma, he wouldn’t trade that for the world, but the fight, argument, whatever it was that had happened that afternoon. He wished he had never said anything. Then maybe Jemma wouldn’t be pissed off at him. 

The opportunity arrived the next day. He picked up his mum from her second job at the local supermarket after school, and they rode back in relative silence. It wasn’t like Fitz was the most talkative person on planet earth but he knew that she knew something was wrong. Best get it out of the way. 

“I-uh, I asked Sally to the prom yesterday.” He said, drumming his fingertips lightly on the steering wheel. 

Lorna whipped her head around to stare at him. 

“What?!” 

“I asked Sally Webber to go to the prom with me.” Fitz repeated, his voice a little louder. 

“Pull in here.” 

Lorna’s voice sounded stern. 

“What?!”

It was Fitz’s turn to be surprised. 

“I said pull in!” 

She said it in a tone of voice that Fitz didn’t dare argue with. He put his indicator on, and pulled into the layby. He could feel his mother's eyes on him. 

“What is it?” Fitz asked. 

He knew. He didn’t need to ask. Lorna was silent for a moment. She’d turned away from him, her eyes gazing off into some far off point he couldn’t determine. 

“Who’s Jemma going with?” She asked, still not looking at him. 

Fitz shrugged his shoulders. He shouldn’t have done that. Mum always hated it when he just shrugged. He couldn’t look at her. 

“I don’t know.” He mumbled. 

“So, maybe no one will ask her, and she just won’t go.” 

Lorna was looking at him again, staring holes into the side of his head. Fitz was fiddling with a piece of the steering wheel, where the fabric was peeling up. He couldn’t look at her. The ache in his stomach seemed to pulse. 

“I guess so.” 

Fitz knew his voice was giving him away.

“And you didn’t think that you should ask her, given that she comes round our house everyday. Seeing as you fuck her everyday after school!” Lorna shouted at him. 

Fitz was taken aback. He’d never heard her swear like this. Not at him. 

“Mum, language!” 

The words were out of his mouth before he could think. He could sense her anger rising as soon as he’d said it. 

“Well feel free to explain to me in your own words Leo! What exactly is the arraignment?! Jemma comes round to our house, you sleep together and she’s not allowed to tell anyone? Is that it? Tell me where I’m going wrong there Leo!” Lorna shouted. 

Fitz just shook his head. 

“Mum no! It’s not like that, exactly!” He protested. 

Her words flew through his head, circling like vultures. 

“What do you mean, ‘allowed’?” He asked, forcing himself to look at her. 

He felt himself getting angry. 

“Do you talk to her, at school? In front of your friends, are you nice to her? Do you talk to her, would you say hello to her even?” Lorna reeled off. 

Fitz felt ill. 

“I don’t think she’d care if I said hello to her.” Fitz muttered darkly. 

It was true. She hated him. She’d made that quite clear yesterday. 

“You’re fucking her!” Lorna shouted. 

“Would you stop saying that!” Fitz yelled back. 

“You’re fucking her and you wouldn’t even say hello to her in public!” 

It sounded awful when she said it like that. But Fitz was too angry to care. 

“It’s not like that!” 

Fitz felt a need to defend himself, defend what he’d done. 

“You don’t understand!” 

That much was true. She didn’t know what his friends were like. They would mock them both until they were in their graves and beyond. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t face that every single day of his life. He couldn’t. 

“What are you afraid of?! What people would think of you if they found out you liked her?” Lorna cried. 

He couldn’t articulate it. There didn’t seem to be the words. It would destroy him. He knew it. 

“Can I tell you what I think of you?” Lorna spat at him. 

“I think you’re a disgrace, and I’m ashamed of you!” 

Fitz hung his head. He couldn’t look at her. She didn’t understand. The ache inside him flared, and grew heavy. Lorna started gathering up her stuff. 

“Mum, what are you doing?” 

“Getting the bus. If I stay in this car, I’ll only say things I regret.” Lorna growled at him, opening the door and getting out. 

“Mum!” Fitz called after her, but it was too late. 

Fitz worried his face in his hands, and looked up at his mothers retreating form along the pavement. He slammed his fist hard against the steering wheel again. 

“Fucks sake!” He shouted into the abyss of the car. 

Jemma stopped coming into school. She didn’t need to. Everything was just revision now before the exams. But Fitz felt her presence like it was a gaping hole in the wall only he could see. Every so often, it was as if there was a draft, which closed its fingers around him, never letting him forget her absence. He tried texting her. He just wanted to know she was okay. She was silent in every way. He hadn’t even seen her since that afternoon. He knew Mum saw her, when she went round. It was the only way he knew she actually still existed. He’d asked carefully after her one day, saying she’d been ignoring his messages. Perhaps she’d been right when she’d said he deserved it. Everything was shit, and he wished it wasn’t. He didn’t know how to make it better again. Especially if Jemma didn’t even want to see him. 

Things were still strained with his mum too. She wasn’t speaking to him much. He sat down with her one night, after he’d been studying all day. She’d been to Jemma’s house that day. He had to ask. 

“Did you see Jemma today?” 

His voice was small. He didn’t want her to start yelling again. Lorna looked up at him, her eyes scanning him, and gave a small nod. 

“Was she alright?” 

It was all he wanted to know. He seemed to ache with it. 

“I see her sometimes.” Lorna said, focusing her attention back onto the telly screen. 

“And?” 

Fitz wondered if he was pushing it. 

“You hurt her feelings Leo.” 

She didn’t sound upset at him anymore. She didn’t even sound angry. She just sounded sad, and somehow, that was much, much worse. Guilt, like he had never felt before, curled in his stomach. 

“Jemma is more sensitive than you seem to think she is. And you hurt her.” 

Fitz twisted his fingers together in his lap. 

“Could you just try to see it from my point of view?” He asked weakly. 

“I don’t want to Leo. I don’t think it’s a bad thing that you’re feeling bad about this.” 

The disappointment still rang in her voice. He couldn’t listen to anymore. Fitz felt like he wanted to scream.

“Fine.” He mumbled, before getting up and going to his room. 

Sleep became difficult after that. It was like the voice in his head wouldn’t shut up. And every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. The ache in his chest seemed to be getting slowly heavier. 

The next time he saw Jemma, the first time, after she’d shouted at him to leave, was during their first exam, English. She wasn’t in uniform. She didn’t have to be, but it made her stick out like a sore thumb in the sea of white shirts and striped ties. Fitz felt his breath catch involuntarily at the sight of her. His head buzzed and for a moment he forgot where he was. But then the invigilator told them to turn over their papers, and he was forced back into reality again. He finished twenty minutes early. His mind seemed to go wild. He couldn’t turn back and look at her. That would be too obvious. The hair on the back of his neck stood up on end. So he was back to sensing her presence, and not the lack thereof. The rest of his exams were the same. Jemma’s presence was like a kind of torture, but he managed to push through it, and concentrate on the questions on the page in front of him. 

And then it was over. Exams were finished. Fitz knew he should feel relieved, but all he could feel, all he was able to feel, was that increasing sense of unease. 

Prom night arrived. He didn’t want to go. He just wanted to stay home. But he’d made his bed, now he had to lie in it, as his mother would say. She hadn’t forgiven him, or even tried to understand what had happened between him and Jemma. Fitz just figured it would be one of those things. She’d helped him pick out his kilt for tonight. It was only a hire, it wasn’t like they could afford to buy one. He’d picked the Mackay tartan, her maiden name. That had made her smile. He fidgeted with his sporran as she fixed his tie. 

“Well, have fun.” Lorna said, standing back with a small smile. 

“Don’t drink too much.” She added. 

Fitz let his hands fall to his sides lamely. He felt dread in the very pit of his stomach. 

“It’s just one night Leo.” 

Mum always just seemed to know. 

“You’ll have fun when you get there. What is it that you’re worried about?” Lorna asked carefully.

That list was as long as his arm. Possibly longer. Fitz just shook his head. 

“Just, don’t want to go.” He mumbled. 

“I’d rather go back to bed. I-I just, don’t want to.” 

He looked up at her pleadingly. Lorna just sighed. She reached forward and brushed an imaginary piece of dust from his shoulder. 

“Sometimes love, we have to do things we don’t want to.” 

Her voice wasn’t harsh. In fact it was quite gentle. This she understood. 

“You’ll be fine. You look so handsome.” She smiled, reaching up and kissing his cheek.

“Muuuuuummm.” Fitz whined, scrubbing at his cheek with his hand. 

“Go on, off you go. You’ll be enjoying yourself before you know it!” Lorna smiled. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Fitz groaned, but he allowed himself a small smile as he reached for the door. 

On the drive over to pick up Sally, his stomach seemed to tie itself in knots again. Her dad answered the door, saying that she was still getting ready, and making some comment about women and time management that definitely bordered on sexist. He was ushered through to the living room, to wait. Fitz hated small talk. Thank god he knew about cars. Sally shuffled in ten minutes after he arrived. She looked pretty. That he would concede. Her parents insisted on taking pictures, but really all Fitz wanted to do was leave. Ten more painstaking minutes later, Fitz was finally helping Sally into his car. Sally chatted happily away at him whilst he drove. He wasn’t really paying much attention to what she was saying, just nodding his head in agreement every now and then. He managed to plaster a smile on his face as they entered the hotel ballroom, Sally clinging onto his arm. Almost immediately she broke away from him, rushing towards her friends, who all began gushing about how good they all looked, and how much effort this all was. Though he knew it was pointless, Fitz scanned the crowd. She wasn’t here. His stomach seemed to drop into his shoes. With a sigh, Fitz headed towards the bar. It was going to be a long night.

He kept to himself throughout the meal, even more so when the dancing started. He was not a dancer. Milton sat next to him, chatting about god knows what, watching as the girls danced. Fitz just drank his pint quietly, and stared off into the distance, letting his mind go blank. At some point in the evening, Milton nudged him hard in the ribs, a grin on his face. 

“Here, get a load of this.” He smiled, holding his phone up for Fitz to see. 

Fitz blinked at the picture, taking a second to fully comprehend that Milton was showing him this. It was a topless photo of the girl, Leah, who Milton had asked to the prom. 

“T-that’s a bit fucked up don’t you think?!” Fitz blurted, ripping his eyes away from the screen.

The smile, the laugh that was leaving Milton’s mouth seemed to fade away. 

“What?!” 

“Showing pictures of your date like that.” Fitz said, wishing Milton would put his phone away.

Milton frowned at him. 

“The hell’s gotten into you mate?! Just a bit of fun.” He said, shoving his phone into his pocket. 

“Nothing.” Fitz mumbled. 

“I need some air.” 

His chest felt uncomfortably tight as he stood up. 

The cool night air seemed to hit him like a ton of bricks after the uncomfortable warmth of the ballroom. He stood there for a moment, gulping in cold air. He seemed to feel it in his lungs. Fitz heard someone approaching after a while, but he didn’t turn to see who. He smelt the puff of cigarette smoke before he saw it. He glanced back, and saw Milton behind him. They stood in silence for a moment, Milton taking drags on his cigarette, Fitz aiming his head away from him, not wanting anything to do with the rancid smoke. 

“A shame Simmons didn’t end up coming.” Milton said into the silence. 

Fitz whipped his head around to stare at him. 

“What?” Fitz blurted before he could think.

Milton just grinned at him. 

“What was going on there?” He asked, nudging him in what he probably thought was a playful manner.

“What do you mean?” 

As soon as it came out of his mouth, Fitz knew he’d said it too quickly. Milton just raised his eyebrows and continued his knowing grin. 

“With you and Simmons. Did you think we didn’t know you were banging her?” 

Fitz felt like he was going to be sick. It had all been for nothing. He’d fucked up and it had all been for nothing. 

“Everyone knew mate. No one has that much homework. Not even you.” 

Fitz closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. He wanted to scream. The ache that he’d been feeling since that awful afternoon with Jemma seemed to explode. His entire body seemed to go numb. And then he felt all of it. Everything he’d been pushing down since the second Jemma’s lips had first touched his. 

“What was the story there then? Were you just doing it for a laugh or what?” Milton asked. 

Fitz wasn’t capable of anything apart from shaking his head. God he’d really fucked this all up. He needed to go. Now. He backed away from Milton, and without hardly thinking, went back inside, grabbed his jacket and left. He walked, he couldn’t tell you how far. He stopped only when it felt as if his feet were screaming at him. He fumbled open the top of his sporran and pulled his phone out. His fingers automatically dialled Jemma’s number. He needed to talk to her. To apologise. To tell her he knew now just how much he’d hurt her and how much he’d fucked up. When it rang out to voicemail, Fitz felt his stomach clench. 

“Hi, Jemma, it’s- it’s me again. I know it’s late, but-but I uh, I know you probably don’t want to talk to me. I don’t blame you.” Fitz stammered out.

“I-I was just calling to say that I miss you, Jemma. “

He felt his voice breaking. God this is what he should have felt all those weeks ago. He felt like he was losing her and there was nothing he could do about it. 

“You see, I-I can’t talk to anyone, like the way I talk to you. With you it’s easy. You care and you understand. You make my world better, Jemma.” 

He felt the hot tears welling in his eyes. 

“I don’t really know what else to say other than the fact that I miss you so much and god, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Jemma. I fucked up. I’m sorry. I really love you Jemma. And yeah, I’m just sorry.” 

The dial tone sounded in his ears and that was it. He couldn’t do anything else. He managed to walk about five paces before he couldn’t go any further. The sobs were overwhelming. Jemma was the best thing he’d ever had in his life. He loved her and he’d fucked her over all because he cared too much about what his stupid friends thought. His stupid fucking friends, who thought it was okay to share their girlfriends nudes, who mocked Jemma mercilessly, just because she was a bit different and who had thought it a laugh when that bastard had groped her. He should have done more. Why had he not done more? How could he have been such an arsehole? He loved her. And she was gone. His knees landed on the pavement and he hunched over, letting the sobs wrack his body. What a stupid goddamn fool he had been. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you sosososososoososo much for reading!   
> I will hopefully see you next week!
> 
> Skye :)


	4. Starting.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz has started his course at Cambridge but finds himself struggling to make friends. An invitation to a flat party changes everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually quite a neat little chapter to write. I have been looking forward to writing this for a while and it was nice to get to it! This chapter delves a little deeper into the whole social anxiety aspect of Fitz’s personality, which as someone who is well acquainted with social anxiety, it was really interesting to delve into and depict for the first time! It was oddly satisfying and cathartic to add some of those little details, those little anxious things in. Anyway, I will not go on a big ramble this week, and will let you get to the reading! Enjoy!

Fitz chapped on the glass door a second time. Perhaps there was no one in. The ad had said from two till four, hadn’t it? Fitz played with his hands nervously. He would give it a minute, and chap one more time. He stared down at his watch, watching as the seconds dragged by. He bounced on his heels. Looking down at his watch, he saw it hadn’t even been a full minute yet. In spite of this, he surged forward and rapped the door again, giving an extra two chaps, just in case. As his knuckles hit the glass for the last time Fitz was ready to give up entirely. It was only as he was bringing his hand back that he heard a voice sound from the front of the house.

“Hello?” 

He shouldn’t have been surprised at how English the voice was, given that they were in England, but he was still taken aback by it. Fitz followed the sound of it round to the front of the house, and saw a young man, maybe a year or two older than Fitz, hanging out of the upper window, a cigarette hanging out his mouth. 

“I’m here about the room!” Fitz called up to him. 

“Oh shit, yeah! Of course you are! Go round, I’ll let you in!” He shouted back, wobbling on his perch before sliding inside and disappearing from view. 

Fitz gazed at the spot where the man had been for a moment, pondering, before making his way back to the door. The man ripped it open, and they exchanged pleasantries, before he started giving him a tour of the place. It was nothing impressive, just a standard student house really. Empty glass liquor bottles lined the tops of the kitchen cabinets like trophies. Finally he was led upstairs and into a sizable room, with two single beds shoved into either corner. One was made up, or rather had a crumpled duvet on it, and the one by the window, had mountains of clothes and sheets on it. 

“I promise it’s usually tidier than this.” The man assured, a bit sheepishly.

Looking around, Fitz half guessed that he wasn’t telling the whole truth. But he wasn’t in a position to be picky. He’d worked two jobs over the summer and still it wasn’t going to be enough to pay for Cambridge halls, even with the bursaries and loans he qualified for. Mum had been beyond ecstatic when he’d got the email telling him he was in. He’d have to work whilst he studied but Fitz didn’t mind.He liked being busy. Kept his mind off of other things. 

“So uh, do I give you the deposit now or…??” Fitz asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

The man just stared at him. 

“Christ you must be desperate for somewhere to live.” The man gaped. 

“Well, I’m supposed to be starting Uni on Monday, so…” Fitz trailed. 

“I’m back on Monday too mate. Cambridge?” 

Fitz nodded.

“Y-yeah. Engineering.” 

“Nice.” The man grinned. 

“I’m Lance Hunter by the way. Just Hunter though. Don’t know what possessed my  mother to call me Lance.” The man, Hunter, grimaced, holding out his hand.

“Leopold Fitz. I’m just Fitz though. Same kind of reasoning as you.” Fitz grinned, shaking Hunter’s hand.

“Well Fitz, I guess I better move my shit off your bed then.” Hunter smiled, dropping Fitz’s hand.

Fitz didn’t know what he expected from Uni. Between lectures, labs, seminars, and the terrible job he’d found waiting tables at some restaurant in the city centre, Fitz wondered how people managed to have a social life. It had been two weeks and he really only knew Hunter. He’d seen the other people who they shared the house with, caught their names briefly, Izzy and Idaho, but he wasn’t really friends with them. Hunter was one of the most incredibly outgoing people he’d ever met, and he’d kind of taken him under his wing. He didn’t talk much in classes. It wasn’t that he didn’t know the answers, it was just, most of the time he didn’t know how to say them. It was funny. It was school, in the most basic sense of the word, but it wasn’t school as Fitz knew it. He knew he was being a bit ridiculous, half expecting it to be like an extension of high school. But it wasn’t. Not at all. Most of his friends had gone to Scottish uni’s or had gotten jobs or apprenticeships. He was the only one who had gone over the border. It felt odd not being around them. Fitz felt like he didn’t know what to do most of the time. Didn’t know who he was supposed to be. With Milton and that lot, it had been easy. They’d been loud enough that he could slip by easily. But now. Now, Fitz felt quite alone in the world.

When he wasn’t working or at uni, Fitz spent most of his time either in his room, or at the library, studying, or working on his designs. He took most of his meals up to his room. Hunter, Izzy and Idaho were nice enough, but they seemed to have a constant stream of people in the house. Fitz felt he’d be better off out of their way. He didn’t want to intrude. 

In early November, Fitz had worked enough hours at the restaurant to afford himself a long weekend off. He only had classes till noon on a Friday and a late start on a Monday, so a drive up home would probably be good. He was ahead on his coursework anyway, and Mum had been nagging to see him for weeks. Would probably be his last chance to head up before Christmas anyway. It felt odd being back in his hometown. As much as Cambridge had felt alien at first, he had supposed he’d gotten used to it. But now home was the one that felt alien. Like an entirely different world from the one he’d just left. 

Lorna was out by the time he’d gotten back. It was a Friday night, Fitz supposed. He couldn’t blame her. Empty house for the first time in eighteen years. Would he not do the same? He hauled his bag up to his room, and flopped onto his bed. How had he not appreciated how comfortable it was before? By the time she got back, he was hunched over a design that had been giving him a bit of trouble. The soft knocking on his door was the first alert he had to her presence. He almost jumped. 

“Hi there!” Lorna grinned from the door.

“Hi mum.” Fitz smiled.

“Well come and give me a hug then!” Lorna grinned at him.

She didn’t have to ask twice. He’d never admit it out loud for fear of utter ridicule, but he had missed her more than he could put into words. She was his mum after all. 

“Welcome home.” She mumbled happily into his ear, wrapping her arms around him.

Fitz couldn’t help the smile that spread across his features. There was just something about her, that made all the bad stuff melt away. The only other person who could do that… Fitz stopped his thoughts in his tracks. He didn’t want to think about her. It hurt too much. 

“Where’ve you been?” Fitz asked as he pulled away from her, taking in her nice clothes. 

“Oh just out with a friend.” Lorna waved off. 

Fitz raised his eyebrows at her. He hadn’t known his mum to ever go out on dates. Not ever. And the divorce had gone through nearly eight years ago.

“Oh not like that you dolt! Jayney got a promotion and wanted to celebrate. They all went out out after dinner, but I knew you were coming home. You’re earlier than I thought you’d be.” She continued, in response to Fitz’s knowing look. 

Lorna grabbed his hand. 

“It’s nice to see you darling.” She smiled.

Fitz went a bit red. 

“Nice to see you too mum.” He smiled back. 

He met Milton in the pub the next evening. Milton hadn’t gone off to Uni. He’d gotten some job with a bank in the city, answering phones mostly, and was commuting in from his parents house everyday. Fitz privately couldn't think of anything he’d like to be doing less. It was nice to see him though, Fitz oddly thought. He knew who he was supposed to be around Milton. She floated through his head again at that thought, and Fitz had to give himself a shake, ridding her from his mind again. 

“So how’s it going? Uni?” Milton had asked, swallowing down a mouthful of his pint. 

Fitz faltered. He didn’t know what to say. Milton wasn’t exactly the kind of person you confided in. 

“Y-yeah. It’s alright I guess.” Fitz mumbled into his pint glass. 

“A lot of stuffed shirts and loafers. Bit  _ too _ English sometimes.” He added with a small smile. 

Milton gave a small laugh. 

“Yeah I can imagine. It’s Cambridge though. That’s exciting is it not?” 

Fitz just gave a small nod. Could he not move on? 

“At least you fucked off out of here.” 

For the first time in all the time he’d known him, Fitz detected, what sounded like, bitterness or jealousy, in Milton’s voice. Maybe he was just imagining it. Emotions weren’t exactly his forte. 

“There’s not much wrong with here.” Fitz said, trying to sound comforting.

What the fuck  _ was  _ he supposed to say to that?

“Eh. I don’t know about that.” Milton said, a definite air of dejection in his voice now.

“Not enjoying the job?” Fitz asked.

Fitz wondered if it was at all possible to be happy working in customer service. He knew he ran for the hills every time his shift at work was finished.

“It’s alright. Decent to have a bit of money I guess.” Milton mused. 

Fitz noticed he wasn’t looking at him anymore, just staring dejectedly into his pint glass. 

“It’s a bit quiet round here. Everyone else has fucked off. Just me left.” Milton sighed.

“You maybe made the right call there. Getting away.” He continued after a moment.

Fitz had no idea what to say to that. 

“Maybe.” He said quietly, before taking a long sip of his pint. 

“Just, don’t waste it mate. Have a good time.” Milton said, his normal vigour returning to his voice, slapping Fitz playfully across the shoulder. 

He had no idea what he meant. 

  
  


Fitz got back to Cambridge late on Sunday night. The drive was too long. He was exhausted. At least he’d only have to do it again at Christmas. Hunter, Izzy and Idaho were all sat in the living room when he got in. They had music going, and Fitz saw tins of beer under their hands. He gave them all a polite nod as he passed them, grabbing a tin of juice from the fridge, before heading upstairs to his and Hunter’s room. He wasn’t feeling especially social this evening. He’d been up there for about ten minutes, had shoved his stuff away and had just sat down to ponder over a design, when he heard a chap on the door. He looked up just in time to see Hunter stick his head through the gap in the door. 

“Hey mate? You want to come down and join us? Izzy bought beer so, you know, take the opportunity? We’re about to start a game of poker, and Idaho is truly terrible, so you’re guaranteed at least a small win. That is if Izzy doesn’t hustle us all again. What d’you say?” He asked in his usual overly charismatic tone. 

Fitz was about to open his mouth to protest, to tell him no, that he would be much happier up here, out of the way, with his designs. Then Milton’s words from the previous night seemed suddenly to make sense. Don’t waste it. 

“Yeah, sure. Alright. Just give me a sec, I’ll be down in a bit.” Fitz finally said with a small nod.

One night wouldn’t kill him. 

“Nice! See you in a bit, mate!” Hunter grinned before disappearing round the door again. 

Fitz put his notebook down on his bedside table and took a moment. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and back out again, willing the dread in the pit of his stomach to go away. It was just a beer and poker. It wasn’t the end of the world. 

As the reasonable part of his brain had told him, it was actually alright. Fitz, after a while, realised he was actually having fun. Hunter told endless stories about some nightmare ex-girlfriend he’d had, going as far as to call her a hellbeast, which made Fitz laugh. Hunter had a bit of a flair for the dramatic, as Fitz found out when he lost in three consecutive rounds of poker. Izzy and Idaho were good too. Izzy had been a bit intimidating at first, which had prevented Fitz from wanting to get to know her, but really she was much less so once you got to know her. And Hunter had been completely right about Idaho. Utterly useless at poker. Fitz went to bed that evening surprisingly happy. It was the first time in a long time, where he hadn’t felt so completely and overwhelmingly lonely. 

He began hanging out more with Izzy, Hunter and Idaho. They made meals together as a household, hung out together in the evenings, and went on nights out together. By the end of November it felt as if this was how it had always been. Fitz felt better about uni in general. He recognised in himself that he was happier. Things were better than they were before. He’d somehow figured out to actually express himself in class. The teachers seemed taken aback when he spoke. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

One afternoon in mid-November, Fitz found himself speaking out more than ever in a class. It weirdly felt good. It didn’t help that the tutor had begun a point which had been patently wrong, and he felt he needed to correct it. He sometimes hated that the first year classes got lumped with the Masters and PhD students instead of proper lecturers. In the back of his mind he knew he knew more than them. Not that he would ever say that out loud. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed one of his classmates watching him, a small smile on his face. Fitz mostly ignored him, and continued on with his point. Fitz noticed the tutor looking at his watch, and put a hand up to stop him. 

“That’s all very good Mr Fitz, but I’m afraid we’re out of time for this session. You can finish your point either next time, or if you’d rather you can come and discuss with me in my office hours.” The tutor smiled oilily at him. 

Poncy git. Fitz rolled his eyes as he began packing up his things, trying to shove his notebook in his bag, whilst simultaneously trying to pull his arms through the sleeves of his jacket. He didn’t want to give the tutor any opportunity to try and catch him. He half bolted from the room, but to his utter horror, someone did catch up with him. He was about to open his mouth and protest that he had another class he needed to get to, a bald faced lie, when he noticed the person who had tapped his shoulder, was not the tutor. It was his classmate, the one who had been staring. 

“It’s Leopold Fitz isn’t it?” The man asked, in a heavy American accent. 

Fitz was taken aback. He knew his name? 

“Yes. But I just go by Fitz.” He managed to get out. 

“I’m Will, Will Daniels.” The man grinned at him, holding out his hand for Fitz to shake.

Fitz took it, and shook it firmly. He still couldn’t account for his presence at all. 

“I just wanted to catch up with you and tell you how much I enjoyed you telling that tutor what was what. Certainly got some brains in your head there buddy.” 

Fitz had no idea what to say to that. 

“Uhm, thanks?” 

“I was going to grab a coffee in the union, if you wanted to join me? You could finish your point from back there if you wanted to. I was enjoying it, and you made it make a lot more sense than that idiot did.” Will jerked his head back in the direction of the classroom.

Fitz paused. His plan had been to go to the library. He’d requested a book that he’d been wanting to look at for his latest idea, a set of miniature drones, but he needed to find out what already existed. But that was a side project really. His next class wasn’t for another hour, if he really needed a hard out from coffee with this bloke. Milton had told him not to waste his time here. He should at least try to make a new friend, who was someone he didn’t live with. 

“Alright. Sure, why not.” 

Will wasn’t like people from home, Fitz quickly found out. He was loud, but in a different way from Milton. He kept going on about his dream to be an astronaut, how his uncle had worked there, how his grandfather had been part of the ground team for Apollo 11. It was a legacy. Will talked casually about all of the facilities they had over at NASA, how his uncle kept him informed about the secret government projects, that strictly speaking he shouldn’t really be talking to him about. He wasn’t boastful, he just didn’t know any different. Fitz managed to get out that he was from Glasgow, to which Will made an offhand comment about his girlfriend being from there. He thought he might know her. Fitz doubted it. Glasgow was a big place. As Fitz downed the last of his tea, and picked up his bag to leave for his next class, he heard Will speak again.

“I’m having a party at my flat tomorrow night. It’s just at the halls across the road from here. Flat 24A. You should come.” Will offered, slouching back into his chair. 

Panic. He shouldn’t. He didn’t want to. He wouldn’t know anyone. It would be awful. But he couldn’t say that. 

“M-maybe. I’ll see.” Fitz smiled politely at him. 

“I’ll-I’ll see you in class Will.” He nodded, before hurrying off. 

The panic didn’t leave Fitz for the rest of the day. He resolved to go, and then not to go, and back and forth all day. He was due to phone his mum that evening, maybe she would be able to help. Fitz could probably already guess what she was going to say, but, that didn’t mean that he wanted to hear it. Or did he. He threw himself onto his little single bed when he got home from uni that evening, and rubbed his face with his hands. He didn’t know what to do. 

“How are you going to get to know folk if you don’t go and meet them?” 

That was Lorna’s answer after Fitz moaned his problem down the phone. It was an unfortunately good point. 

“They’re not exactly my kind of people.” Fitz grumbled back. 

“And what kind of people are they then?” Lorna countered. 

“You know. Cambridge students.” Fitz muttered, knowing how weak it sounded.

Lorna let out a short laugh. 

“I hate to be the one to break it to you dear, but  _ you’re  _ a Cambridge student.” 

“Not like them I’m not.” 

Lorna just sighed down the phone at him. 

“Look if you don’t like it, you can always leave. You don’t have to stay out all night if it is as bad as you think. Just, give it a try Fitz. You never know.” She reasoned.

“It’s a bit pathetic to leave halfway through isn’t it?” He countered.

“Oh aye, and it’s so much cooler to stay at home on your own is it?” 

Fitz couldn’t help the laugh that left his lips. Of course she was right. 

“Go. I’ll phone you on Saturday and you can tell me how it went, alright?” 

“Alright.” He grumbled. 

  
  


Fitz gave himself a nervous shake. It would be fine. It would all be completely fine. The building itself didn’t look particularly inviting. It was all grey brick and tiny windows. But there were people milling outside, drinking, smoking, so Fitz figured he had the right place. He could already hear the music blaring as he made his way up the stairs. His eyes scanned the flat as soon as he entered, looking for Will’s familiar face. He felt the panic rising in his chest as his eyes met consistently new faces, each room was packed with people who he didn’t know. It was like something out of a nightmare. After ten minutes of this, the tightness in Fitz’s chest was unbearable and he had all but resolved to leave. Then a voice sounded over the music and the crowds of people. 

“Fitz! You came! Buddy! It’s good to see you.” 

Fitz whipped his head around, and saw Will’s grinning face. He’d never been so happy to see anyone in his entire life. 

“Come on let's get a drink!” Will shouted over the noise. 

Fitz could only nod and follow. Will led him to the kitchen and disappeared into the fridge, reappearing with two tins of beer. He held them up, and said something Fitz couldn’t quite hear. Fitz could only nod. Will tossed the beer to him, and he scrambled to catch it. Why had he thrown it? Fitz knew that his hand-eye coordination was not his strongest attribute. They made small talk in the kitchen for a while, before Will declared loudly that there were some people he wanted Fitz to meet. Something in Fitz’s chest tightened. He followed Will anyway, back down the stairs, his beer clutched tightly in his hand. Will led him to a group standing just outside the building, talking and laughing. A girl with short dark hair had her back to them, but he could see the rest of them well enough. All strangers. Will shouted something Fitz couldn’t hear and the girl with the dark hair turned. Fitz took in a shallow gasp as his eyes met the brown ones that turned to face him. He knew those eyes. Intimately. The eyes that could see into his soul. Her hair was shorter, her eyes smudged with black eyeliner that he’d never seen her wear before, but she was still unmistakable. Jemma Simmons. 

“Jemma, there’s someone I want you to meet!” Will chirped happily, unaware. 

“This is Fitz!” 

Fitz could only stare, open mouthed. He hadn’t seen Jemma in nearly six months. How could someone change so much. She looked, for lack of a better word, cool. She belonged. Jemma seemed to be just as dumbstruck as he was. 

“H-hi.” Fitz managed to sputter out. 

Jemma took a few tentative steps towards him. Fitz wished he knew what to say. How she was feeling. He wanted to run. But he seemed to be stuck. 

“Leopold Fitz, as I live and breathe.” 

A small smile quirked at the edge of her lips. 

“We were at school together.” Jemma explained, the group behind her grumbling in response. 

Someone appeared, and shouted for Will, who quickly disappeared, leaving him alone with her. He felt sick. The last time they’d spoken she’d shouted at him. And he had been awful to her. How do you work around that? Fitz continued to just stare. All words, everything he’d ever known seemed to have left him. To make matters worse, Jemma broke away from her group, and sauntered closer towards him.

“So, how are you?” She asked. 

Fitz was taken aback. That was all? She wasn’t angry or-or mad at him? Nothing. Part of him had expected her to shout again. He deserved it. 

“I-I’m alright. I’m-uh, I’m good.” Fitz stuttered, staring at his shoes. 

“Would you like a drink?” She offered kindly. 

Fitz couldn’t fathom it. In part of his mind he knew she was here. Knew she was at Cambridge, but it was such a big university. He figured he’d never see her. But here she was. 

“W-Will gave me this.” Fitz said, holding up his beer stupidly.

Admittedly, it did taste like utter piss. Jemma raised her eyebrows at him. 

“Come on.” She smiled with a jerk of her head. 

“We can do a lot better than that.” 

And then, inexplicably, he was following her, back up the stairs. The kitchen had emptied a bit and Fitz tucked himself into a quiet corner, whilst Jemma fussed with drinks. Jemma Simmons. He still couldn’t believe it. She handed him a beer he recognised with a smile, and sat down on a chair across from him. 

“So, how do you know Will?” She asked. 

A penny seemed to drop in Fitz’s head. Will had a girlfriend from Glasgow. Jemma had come here from Glasgow. Jemma was Will’s girlfriend. This realisation seemed to make his stomach twist into a knot. 

“We-uh, we have classes together.” Fitz stammered out, once he felt able. 

“Y-you two are going out?” 

Jemma just smiled at him. 

“Everyone seems to know Will.” She sighed with a smile. 

Fitz wasn’t sure what she entirely meant by this. There was something else. 

“Yeah, bit of a campus celebrity isn’t he?” 

Fitz thought he’d try for a joke. Jemma let out a small laugh, and he took it as a victory. 

“Oh he’d love that.” She laughed. 

Fitz allowed himself to smile. To feel the happiness and the ease that came along every time he had a conversation with Jemma. 

“We were talking yesterday. Is he a member in every single society on campus or did he just miss a couple off the list?” Fitz grinned. 

Jemma laughed. 

“I think he gave the amature drama society a miss, but other than that, I think you’re about right.” Jemma smiled. 

Allowing himself to laugh felt wonderful. The familiar feeling of being around Jemma filled him like drink, the ease of it, the joy of it. It felt like something missing in him had been put back in its proper place. 

“I’ve missed you Fitz.” 

He stared at her. Her eyes were boring into him, like they used to. She meant it. He could just tell. She always had this certain look about her, when she was being sincere. He’d gotten to know it well. Know her, really. 

“I’ve missed you too.” 

They were the easiest words he’d spoken in six months. Natural. He almost couldn’t help what came spilling out of his mouth next. 

“I was-uh, I got worried when you stopped coming into school. I-uh, I wasn’t happy then, Jemma.”

Fitz stared at his shoes. 

“Well, we never really hung out during school hours did we?” 

Jemma’s voice was light, but Fitz could sense the edge to it. He’d hurt her. He deserved this. 

“What about Sally? Are you two still together?” 

Her voice was unnaturally high now. His stomach dropped at the sound of Sally’s name. 

“No. I uhm, I actually haven’t seen much of her, not since prom night really.” Fitz said more to the floor than he did to Jemma. 

“Oh. Sorry.” 

She didn’t sound sorry. In fact she sounded rather happy. Fitz knew he deserved it. 

“We weren’t exactly compatible.” He explained, bringing his head back up to look at her.

He had missed her so much. Jemma made a noise of agreement. 

“What?” 

“Fitz, I think I could have told you that.” Jemma half snorted.

He deserved it. He deserved her contempt. It was the stupidest thing he’d ever done. Well, second stupidest. 

“I’m sorry Jemma. I shouldn’t have, well, you know. I’m just, I’m sorry.” He stammered out. 

“I missed you, so much, this summer.” 

It felt like a relief to say it. 

“Me too. Can you blame me for feeling somewhat abandoned?” Jemma asked, her voice small. 

Fitz shook his head. 

“No. I felt abandoned too. The Sally thing, it-it was never serious and, you left.” Fitz said quietly. 

“I didn’t leave school because of you.” Jemma quickly shot back. 

Fitz couldn’t tell if she was telling the truth or not.

“It was more of a last straw kind of a thing. I didn’t want to be there anymore. I didn’t need to be. So I didn’t go.” Jemma explained, as though it was obvious. 

He just nodded. 

“I thought it must be something like that.” Fitz murmured.

His eyes found his shoes again. He could feel his face burning. He knew, if he ever saw her again, that they’d have to talk about it. But hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Jemma gave a small harrumph of laughter. 

“Really? Perhaps you’re telepathic.”

She was being sarcastic. He could tell. Again, he deserved it. But then, was there not some truth in it? Had he not spent those months knowing her? Learning how she felt? Studying every small movement of her face. He knew what a quirk of her eyebrow meant, a curse, a push of her arms, her fingers tangled in his air a certain way, every gasp, every sigh, every moan. He knew them all. 

“Maybe. I would think about that sometimes. When we were together. What it would be like to read your mind.”

Fitz had never thought that he would admit that to her. 

“In bed you mean?” Jemma asked. 

At least she hadn’t lost that quality. The ability to cut to the chase. To say what was really happening. What he really meant. 

“Yeah.” Fitz admitted. 

“A-and after.” He stammered, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“I-I don’t know. Maybe that’s normal.” 

Jemma stared at him. Her eyes caught his again, and he felt that ease again.

“It’s not.” She said quietly. 

Oh. They stayed silent for a moment. Fitz guessed that Jemma knew what to say just about as much as he did. 

“You look very nice tonight.” 

It was the only thing he could think. It was true. She looked beautiful. Jemma grinned. 

“Oh yeah. It’s classic me isn’t it? Came to uni and got pretty.” She laughed. 

“No. You were always pretty. Very pretty.” Fitz quickly shot back. 

“Y-you’re beautiful, Jemma.” 

This seemed to make her stop. 

“Oh? Haven’t heard that one in a while.” She smiled. 

She wasn’t looking at him. There was more to that.

“Does Will not tell you that?” 

The words were out of Fitz’s mouth before he could stop them. Jemma looked up at him in surprise. 

“He’s probably very fannying around with the international students society or something like that.” Fitz teased, trying to change tact. 

“You’re being mean, Fitz.” Jemma said with a smile. 

Fitz knew she only half meant it. She’d smiled so much tonight. He loved it when she smiled. It made his chest tight, but in the good way, not the bad way. 

“Are  _ you  _ seeing anyone at the moment?” Jemma asked.

She was trying to change the topic. Fitz knew. He shifted uncomfortably, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“Uh, no.” 

Jemma looked at him again. 

“Finding it hard to meet people here?” She asked.

She knew him too well. 

“A bit. It’s-it’s different from home, isn’t it?” 

He felt safe admitting that to her. 

“It’s probably why I’m good at it.” She half laughed in response. 

“I have some friends I could introduce you to?” She offered.

Fitz’s eyebrows went up involuntarily. 

“Oh really?” 

He didn’t know why he said it. 

“Yeah, I have those now.” Jemma smiled.

She was pleased. She was happy. And that made him happy. 

“Not sure, I’d be their type.” Fitz mumbled. 

Jemma stared at him again.

“What do you mean?” She asked softly. 

Fitz just shrugged.

“What’s not to like about you?” She said quietly.

The kitchen had all but emptied now. People would soon be moving on to clubs and bars. That had never been Fitz’s scene. Will soon found Jemma, told her that they were leaving for some club or other. She held Fitz’s gaze as she bade him goodbye. He knew that this would not be the last he saw of her here. And Fitz was glad for it. 

Two days later, his phone buzzed. He almost missed it. He’d just been finishing up a sketch of the first of his little drones, but the light caught his eye. Fitz couldn’t help the smile on his face when he saw the name on his screen. Jemma Simmons. He wasn’t going to let her slip through his fingers again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!!
> 
> Skye :)


	5. Again.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz starts hanging out with Jemma and her friends, but they are a far cry from the kind of people he’s used to. Jemma and Fitz have a conversation about the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific trigger warnings: Explicit sexual content, mention of anxiety, and heavy alcohol consumption. 
> 
> Sigh. It has been a week. The fact that I have a chapter ready to go up at ALL is honestly astounding to me. It was nice though, I had this little world to retreat to when the world was going to shit. Monday and Tuesday were just utter write-offs and somehow I just absolutely plowed through and wrote 7k+ words in two days, which for me is honestly unheard of. ESPECIALLY given all that happens in this chapter. It’s a lot, just on an emotional level, which as a writer is great to go through but it can take a lot from you. So yeah, I don’t know how I did it this week, but I did. ENJOY. I think a lot of you will be quite happy with this chapter. I would like to just add in that I am now obsessed with the song that plays through the credits at the end of this episode. It is an acoustic guitar cover of Make You Feel My Love, and it is just *chefs kiss* amazing. ALSO, a little birdie told me that some of you have been saying some very lovely things about this fic over on twitter (I'm not on fandom twitter I could not hack it, I am on tumblr under the same name) and pls just know how much your comments mean to me, thank you for being so incredibly lovely, I am sorry for ruining your lives with this fic hahahahaha. In all seriousness though, the same aforementioned birdie sent me some screenshots of all of the lovely things you've been saying over there and please just know that I smiled and laughed and cried happy tears all in equal measure. Thank you so much. As I said this has been a bit of a rough week and honestly seeing you all be so lovely just utterly made my week, so thank you. ANYWAY, I will stop my ramblings and let you get to the reading!
> 
> ALSO: just for context, this chapter picks up immediately from where the last chapter left off.

As he picked up his phone he was surprised at the message. 

**Jemma** : Call me? 

Why did he immediately feel concerned? Should he be? Fitz sat up straight, and hit the call button on his phone. The dial tones seemed to take forever. 

“Hey.” 

Jemma’s voice finally sounded in his ear. Her tone was odd. Her voice was high pitched and false. Something was wrong. Fitz’s stomach seemed to churn. 

“Hi. Is-is everything alright?” Fitz quickly worried down the phone. 

There was a pause, and Fitz felt his breath catch. 

“Y-yeah.” 

There was still an artificiality to her voice. It set Fitz’s teeth on edge. 

“J-just it’s been a while since I got a midnight call from you.” He said, trying his best to keep his voice level. 

Back then, Jemma had phoned him sometimes in the middle of the night. He wondered now if that was her missing him. He certainly missed her. They would chat about nothing, and everything until one of them fell asleep. Fitz thanked his lucky star that Hunter was out that night, and that he had an early class, an excuse not to go with him. 

“Everything’s alright? N-nothing’s happened, has it?” 

He had to know. 

“N-No. Everything’s fine.” Jemma’s voice assured.

A weight seemed to melt away from him. She was fine. She was okay. But why?

“I-uh-I just uhm, I-I keep thinking about how-how nice it was to see you at the party the other night.” She stammered. 

“And, I-uh, I thought, well I was thinking really, a-about how much I’ve missed having you in my life Fitz.” 

Her voice went quiet. Something warm seemed to glow in Fitz’s chest. The smile that spread across his face was completely involuntary. 

“I was thinking about how nice it would be, if maybe you were in it, my life I mean, again. That is, if you wanted…” Jemma trailed off. 

Fitz closed his eyes. Tears seemed to burn the sides of his eyes. But he was happy. So beyond happy to hear these words. To hear them from her. 

“I know we haven’t really done the whole, friendship thing, but I-I would like to try, and I was just wondering if we could?”

They were the best words he’d heard in months. Fitz’s chest tightened in that good way, in that happy way. 

“Yeah, Jemma. I’d really like that.” He smiled. 

Fitz could almost hear her smiling down the phone at him. The image came to him with no effort. Jemma with the phone pressed to her ear, a smile lighting up her face. 

“O-okay!” 

Her voice sounded lighter now. Happy. He hadn’t heard it like that in a long time. God, he’d missed it. They chatted idly for a few more minutes, before Fitz stammered out that he had an early class, and they said their goodbyes. He slumped back on his bed, but he didn’t sleep. His mind seemed to spin with her. 

A few days later, Fitz found himself on Jemma’s doorstep, shaking his leg. Jemma had invited him over for dinner. To meet some of her friends. It would be nice, she said. They might go out after. He’d pressed the doorbell with a somewhat shaking hand. He couldn’t help it. They’d never been like this before. Before, it had always just been them. He didn’t know what they’d be like around other people. What he’d be like. His heart seemed to stop as the door opened. Nerves, he supposed. Jemma wore a smile on her face as she greeted him, stepping to one side to let him in. Fitz stopped in the hallway and looked around. It was nice. Very nice. Nothing like the stark coldness of the house he’d known her in. it had a warmth to it. He heard Jemma shutting the door. The air seemed to crackle. 

“T-this is a nice place.” He stammered, his eyes falling on hers. 

Jemma grinned. 

“My hallway?” She asked. 

On someone else, the hint of sarcasm in her voice might have been lost, but not to Fitz. A smile spread over his features and he felt his cheeks flush. 

“Y-yup, yeah, a nice hallway.” Fitz muttered with a smile, staring more at his shoes than at Jemma.

“Come on through. I’ll introduce you to everyone.” 

Jemma gave a small laugh as she spoke. It had been a while since he’d heard her laugh. Properly. He’d missed it. Following her through, he found an equally cosy living room, with large plush couches, with cushions and blankets galore. Almost every seat was occupied by an unfamiliar face. 

“Everyone, this is Fitz.” Jemma announced to the room. 

Every face shifted to look at him. Fitz squirmed uncomfortably. With this announcement, the two women closest to them sprung up, grins that Fitz didn’t like the look of spread across both of their faces. 

“Hi! I’m Daisy!” The first one said excitedly. 

Fitz detected an American twang to her voice. 

“And I’m Bobbi.” The other woman smiled. 

Fitz gulped at the sight of her. Her voice too, held an unmistakable American accent. She towered over him, long blonde hair falling past her shoulders. She looked like something out of a comic book. 

“I’m in Jemma’s bio course, and Daisy here is my roommate.” Bobbi continued. 

Fitz just nodded. He didn’t think he’d be able to speak in full sentences to this woman any time soon. In spite of her smile, there was something, intimidating about her. In the back of his mind, he wondered how Hunter, master of the snarky charismatic comment, would get on with this She-God. The other woman Daisy, smiled kindly at him too. From the looks they were giving him, he guessed that Jemma had at least mentioned him. His eyes found Will, who offered him a glass of wine. Very civilised. Fitz didn’t think he’d ever been offered a glass of wine before in his life. Jemma caught his eye and gestured to the final figure in the room, a man about the same build as himself, sat in the furthest chair. He gazed up at Fitz, his fingers playing with the rim of his wine glass. 

“And that’s Jamie over there. He’s in BioChem with me.” Jemma explained, noticing the direction of his gaze. 

Jamie raised his glass in acknowledgement, but stayed silent. Fitz wasn’t sure about him either. 

“And my other friend Hannah said she might meet us later. And of course you know Will.” Jemma smiled, as Will placed a glass of wine into Fitz’s hands. 

Fitz didn’t miss the significant look that Bobbi and Daisy shared at the mention of Hannah’s name. Daisy let out a small giggle, but quickly righted herself. Jemma placed herself between the two of them on the couch, and Fitz couldn’t help but notice the look on her face. She was not comfortable. He was saved the mercy of dwelling on this by the sound of Daisy’s voice breaking into the air again. 

“So, Fitz you were at school with the lovely Jemma Simmons?” 

“Y-yeah.” Fitz nodded. 

“And you’re studying engineering right?” Bobbi interjected. 

Fitz could hardly open his mouth before Daisy followed on. 

“Jemma says you make the  _ most  _ incredible little inventions too!” Daisy grinned eagerly at him. 

Fitz couldn’t imagine the words “incredible little inventions” coming out of Jemma’s mouth. He was flattered she’d think to mention it all the same. It wasn’t exactly serious. He just mucked about in his spare time really. 

“N-not really.” He mumbled back. 

He saw Jemma raise an eyebrow at him, but she stayed silent all the same. 

“I so nearly went into bioengineering, some of those courses looked  _ amazing _ .” Bobbi gushed. 

Fitz just nodded at her, and took a sip of his wine. He only realised as it touched his taste buds that it was red. 

“So, Fitz, what was Jemma like at school?!” Daisy asked excitedly. 

He felt himself turning red. Of all the questions in the world. Fitz didn’t want to answer it. All the feelings of before seemed to wash over him like a wave. Simple, he thought.

“S-smart.” He blurted before he could think too hard about it. 

Daisy and Bobbi laughed. 

“Well obviously she was smart, but what was she  _ like _ ?!” Daisy reiterated. 

The words seemed stuck in Fitz’s throat. He felt the eyes on him, and that just made it worse. His eyes fell to the floor. He could just picture what Jemma’s face would look like. He wished he couldn’t. He shifted his glass in his hand and dared to look up. All eyes were still on him. 

“Are you scared of what she’ll say if you tell us the truth?” Daisy laughed. 

Jemma shot her a look and she quieted down. Fitz couldn’t thank her enough, though he knew he shouldn’t have to. 

“Have a seat Fitz. If this pair will stop interrogating you for two moments.” Jemma smiled kindly. 

Fitz sat down in a squashy armchair, grateful. 

“What?! We just want to kno-” Daisy started, but was interrupted by Bobbi elbowing her in the side. 

The topic of conversation moved on, and Fitz chimed in occasionally. He felt oddly out of place here. He was used to beer and casual chat with Milton or now, Hunter, not wine and fierce intellectual debate. He didn’t hate it. He just felt, well he couldn’t quite place it. Out of sorts, was the closest thing he could come up with. Dinner passed in much the same fashion, and Fitz was glad to shovel pasta down his throat if it kept him from adding to the conversation when he really didn’t want to. Occasionally his eyes would catch Jemma’s over the table and he felt the nerves in his stomach dissipate. He tried. He really did. But he didn’t feel like going out properly. Dinner had been enough for one day. Fitz managed to cite a non-existent early class as his reason for leaving. Jemma saw him to the door. 

“S-some of us are going out to Lola’s, you know that bar on the far side of campus, on Friday. I know you said you work Saturday nights but, I was wondering if you wanted to join us?” Jemma blurted, as his hand found the door handle. 

Fitz looked up at her, surprised. She still wanted to see him. His heart leapt a little. 

“Y-yeah.” Fitz heard himself say. 

“That would be good. Yeah.” 

Jemma smiled. Fitz’s fingers seemed to fall away from the door handle. Fitz watched her face, and she seemed to decide something quite quickly. Before he could prepare himself, he felt her arms wrap themselves around his torso, her body pressed against his. He wrapped his arms around her in kind, and allowed himself to breathe her in. It was more intoxicating than any drink he’d ever had. 

“It was good to see you Fitz. Thanks for coming.” Jemma smiled, pulling away from him.

Fitz smiled too. He couldn’t help it. 

“It was nice to see you too Jemma.” He grinned, his hand finding the door handle again. 

“I’ll see you on Friday then? I’ll text you the time.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll see you then.” Fitz assured. 

His eyes caught hers once more, before he finally found the strength to push open the front door and leave her. 

Fitz’s class ran late on Friday, and he found himself jogging to Lola’s, stuffing his arms into his jacket sleeves. Everyone was already there when he arrived, slightly out of breath. Jamie and Daisy were locked in an intense game of pool. Fitz just caught Jamie running his mouth at her, as he arrived, and watched as Daisy raised her middle finger at him in retaliation, before bending over her pool cue. 

“S-sorry I’m late. Class ran over.” he blurted as he came to a stop. 

Every eye turned up towards him and he immediately regretted saying anything. 

“That’s fine!” Jemma assured him. 

Fitz gave everyone a curt nod before whisking himself off to the bar. He had a feeling he’d need this drink. When he returned, a pint glass in hand, Daisy was letting out a string of rather creative curse words. 

“You are the utter worst Jamie. You know that? Totally insufferable.” Daisy humfed, as she threw herself down into her chair, her pool cue abandoned on the table. 

“Right, who else wants a game?” Jamie asked with a smirk.

Fitz hadn’t spent much time around Jamie, but he knew enough to know he didn’t like him very much. He was loud and arrogant, and Fitz didn’t enjoy that. His dad was some big finance mogul down in London. He was from a whole other world. Fitz took his words as an excuse to take a deep drink of his beer. Not me. Anyone but me.

“Bobbi? How about it?” 

Oh thank god.

“No thanks. Me and this glass of wine have some catching up to do before I can think about going near a pool table.” Bobbi grinned, tipping her wine glass at him. 

“I’ll give you a game Jamie.” 

Will’s voice broke through the crowd. Fitz had hardly even registered his presence. He watched as the two men played. In general terms, they were both terrible. Will was just less terrible. Really it was all just physics, and angles and force and velocity, Fitz thought. Any idiot would be able to figure it out. Will ended up winning, and they all ended up finding out how terrible a loser Jamie really was. He wore a sour look on his face until someone pushed another drink at him. Fitz tried his best to take part in the small talk that was going on. He really did. The games of pool had been unceremoniously ended by Jamie’s bitter defeat and they ended up meandering out into the beer garden. Fitz had no idea why. It was nearly December.

“Are you absolutely hating this?” Jemma’s voice broke his reverie. 

Fitz swivelled around and found her just behind his shoulder. 

“N-no.” He stuttered.

It wasn’t entirely a lie. 

“Your face is telling a different story.” 

Fitz tried to rearrange his features. 

“I’m not having a  _ bad  _ time if that’s what you meant.” He said, trying to justify himself.

Jemma just smiled at him. 

“They’re good aren’t they? Fun.” She said, staring over his shoulder. 

Fitz followed her gaze, to where the rest of them were sat at a table, laughing at something Daisy had just said. 

“Y-yeah. I guess.” 

“I think-I think they’re just a bit different from my own friends.” he said. 

He didn’t know why he felt like he needed to explain himself to her. But he did. Jemma just stared at him. Fitz briefly wondered if she  _ could _ read his mind. It would make an unfortunate amount of sense.

“Your friends here, or your friends back at home?” She asked, knowingly. 

Too knowingly for Fitz’s liking.

“Both.” Fitz answered, without thinking.

Even Hunter and Izzy and Idaho seemed miles away from them, never mind Milton and the rest of them.

“Well, I know they can be a bit much sometimes, but at the end of the day they’re my friends.”

Jemma stiffened as she spoke. She was protective of them. It wasn’t hard to understand why. She opened her mouth to speak again, but was stopped by loud jeers coming from the others. Another woman had turned up. She was pretty. Fitz thought he vaguely recognised her face, but he couldn’t place her. 

“That’s Hannah. Better go and say hi.” Jemma said, answering Fitz’s gaze. 

He followed her over to the rest of them, introducing himself politely. She’d been at Will’s party the other week. That’s how he knew her face. She wasn’t bad to talk to, Hannah. It was only when she laughed at something he’d said that wasn’t funny, and put her hand on his leg, that Fitz realised she was flirting with him. He had no idea what to think. Eventually, he decided it was a good thing. It had been a while since anyone had shown any interest in him. He tried flirting back, but it felt odd with Jemma right there. Then Fitz remembered that she was with Will, and had no reason to feel like that. He’d hurt her after all. If she still felt like that about him it would be a small miracle. 

Jemma left before he did. He was still talking to Hannah, and she gave him a small tap on the shoulder to let him know that she and Will were away. Fitz decided to hang on for ten more minutes. He thought he could maybe slip away unnoticed. So he was surprised when Hannah rose with him. She asked if he would walk with her. Fair enough, he thought, it was late, they were both going in the same direction. His mum would smack him over the head if he said no, so he went. He couldn’t tell you what they spoke about as they meandered across campus. Hannah took his hand when they reached her door. 

“Do you want to come up?” She asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes. 

Fitz’s eyes went wide as he realised what exactly she meant. He began trying to say something but nothing but nervous stuttering seemed to come out. Hannah laughed. 

“It doesn't have to be anything if you don’t want it to.” She smiled, getting closer. 

“We’re only eighteen. Not like I’m looking for anything serious. This could just be, casual, if you wanted.” She said breathily, her lips nearing his throat. 

Fitz felt the hairs on the back on his neck stand up. He was about to push her away, to stutter out some excuse, some refusal, when he stopped himself. He’d liked her. He’d liked talking to her. He thought she was pretty. She clearly liked him. And it had been so long. Why not? A small voice at the back of his head perked up. Hannah looked at him. She had brown eyes. Her lips pressed against his before he could think. Her body was warm against the cool night air. He held her close, relishing in the heat of her, kissing her back. He had no awareness of Hannah opening the door, just her hand fisting itself in his shirt and pulling him in. 

He woke up the next morning and he blinked. And then he remembered. Hannah shifted sleepily next to him, and he felt all the blood running towards his face. God he shouldn’t have done this. Before he decided to get up, and leave, Hannah began to stir. 

“Good morning.” She grumbled sleepily, snuggling into his side. 

Fitz had no idea what to do. 

“M-morning.” he managed to stammer, his body stiffening.

Hannah looked up at him, grinning at the look on his face. 

“We didn’t commit a crime Fitz. Like I said last night, this was just casual. Doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to. I’m not expecting anything.” She assured him.

Fitz huffed out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure he wanted this to mean anything either. He got up and dressed, and said his goodbyes to Hannah. He wasn’t looking forward to going home. He could only pray that Hunter was out. 

No such luck. Hunter and Izzy were sat on Hunter’s bed when he entered the room. The grin on Hunter’s face was immediate. 

“Oi, oi. Last night’s clothes, out all night, walk of fucking shame there pal. Fitz you sly dog. Come on then, what’s her name?” Hunter howled at him, the grin widening with every smile. 

Fitz looked anywhere but at him. He headed for the wardrobe and grabbed the first towel he saw, not even caring if it was clean or not. 

“I’m going for a shower.” He grumbled. 

“Yeah you are.” Hunter grinned. 

“Leave the poor boy alone Hunter.” Izzy said kindly. 

Fitz flew from the room. Hunter shouted something else after him, but Fitz blocked it out completely. 

He avoided seeing Jemma for the next few days. Something in him didn’t feel quite right about seeing her right now. He threw himself into his uni work. His marks were good, he didn’t really need to work as hard as he did sometimes, but it helped take his mind off things. That and he really enjoyed it. If Jemma noticed he was brushing her off the next few times she texted, she didn’t say anything. And Fitz was grateful. Seeing Jemma, it just, the idea didn’t sit right. 

When she messaged him, asking if he wanted to come over and study one night, Fitz was out of excuses. He’d have to see her sometime. He didn’t know why he was surprised that it was just the two of them. They hadn’t been alone, really alone, since he told her about Sally Webber and the prom. Fitz swallowed hard at the memory. She offered him a cup of tea, and somehow this made him relax. He sipped his tea, and they sat in a peaceful quiet for a while. The only sound was shifting pages and pens scribbling. He felt Jemma’s eyes on him, and he looked up at her. His eyes found hers, like a magnet clicking into place. 

“What’s it like?” She asked quietly. 

Fitz just stared at her. He had no idea what she was talking about. 

“You’re this star over at the engineering department. Top of the class.” She explained.

Fitz scoffed for two reasons. Firstly, she was one to talk. She was the talk of the biochem course, top in  _ her  _ class, darling of all the lecturers and tutors. Secondly, Fitz knew he wasn’t all that. He knew he was doing well. He knew his marks were good. Jemma was making him out to some kind of genius. 

“Do you enjoy it?” Jemma finished, her eyes wide. 

He didn’t really know how to respond.

“Jemma.” He breathed. 

“I’m-I’m not all that. I’m not brilliant or anything. I just do the reading. Everyone else seems to come to class and talk out their arse about some principle they only half understand. If they actually took the time to do the bloody reading, they’d see I’m not as brilliant as they all seem to think I am.” 

It all just tumbled out. 

“Fitz.” She said softly. 

“You are the smartest person I’ve ever met. You know that right?” 

Her voice was insistent. This was important to her. Important that he knew that. He couldn’t tell you why. He felt his cheeks flushing. 

“It bothers you. The people who don’t do the reading?” 

It wasn’t a question exactly. Fitz was just glad for the change of subject. 

“Yeah. Yeah I suppose it does.” 

It was true. Felt nice to admit really. 

“W-what bothers me, really is-is, that these arseholes can go on and on for ages, talking about something they don’t understand with complete confidence, getting it all wrong. And I know they’re wrong. I could tell them that they’re wrong in half the time that they go on for. It-it just frustrates me that they  _ can  _ do that. Outside of work, outside of this…” Fitz trailed off, giving a small gesture between them. 

“I don’t know what to say half the time. They don’t have to pretend. Jemma, I feel like I’m pretending all the time. They know who they are. I don’t really know who I am. Not here at least. W-with you, I sort of feel like I do. But the rest of the time, I feel like I’m going about, trying on a hundred different versions of myself. And none of them fit.” 

Jemma’s eyes did not move from his. She looked sad, or concerned. Perhaps both. 

“It doesn’t seem like that.” 

Her voice was quiet.

“From the outside.” 

Fitz gave a small laugh. He was good at making it seem like he was okay. 

“What’s the analogy about a duck?” He asked quietly with a smile. 

“Smooth water on top, paddling like fuck underneath? Something like that…” He trailed off. 

It was about as accurate as he could think of. There was a pause. She was still looking at him. He could feel it. 

“But you know, I think about home, my life there, an-and school, and fuck, just, I can’t connect that life and this life. They just don’t fit together. No matter how hard I try.” 

He’d done it now. He’d mentioned home. Might as well ask. 

“D-do your friends know about…”

Fitz gestured between them again. Jemma placed her tea on the coffee table, and sat back in her chair. 

“No.” 

Jemma shook her head. Fitz felt a weight fly off his chest. Why he didn’t know.

“I mean Bobbi guessed. I don’t know how. She’s good at body language. It’s scary sometimes really. And Daisy does. Sort of. I trust her. Both of them don’t know everything.” She explained. 

“O-okay.” Fitz stammered. 

“Would you be embarrassed if they found out?” 

It just slipped out. He hadn’t meant to ask. 

“Yeah.” 

Jemma nodded. Fitz figured as much. He didn’t blame her. 

“It was humiliating Fitz.” Jemma said, her voice very small.

Fitz heard the crack in her voice and his chest seemed to wrench. 

“You mean the way I treated you?” He asked. 

He wanted to not look at her. But he deserved every bad thing she said. He’d been awful. 

“Yeah. And uh, just the fact that I put up with it too.” 

Fitz’s heart wrenched again. It was worse this time. 

“Fitz, I just, I-, did you ever think about asking me to the prom?” 

It was the worst question she could have asked. He couldn’t bear giving her the answer. But she had every right to know. He pulled his eyes away from her, and stared down at his hands. It was the only way he could do this. 

“No.” 

The silence in the room seemed to crackle. It was like he could feel it.

“I wish that I had Jemma. So much.” 

It was the truth. Fitz forced himself to look up. There were tears in her eyes. Fuck. He was going to lose her all over again.

“Would you have said yes, if I asked?”

“Yeah.” 

If it hadn’t been for the small nod she gave, Fitz hardly would have known she’d spoken at all. Everything was quiet. Jemma’s hands came up to her face, rubbing under her eyes. Fitz just wanted to make it better. He’d hurt her. He knew he couldn’t, but he had to try.

“Jemma, I’m so sorry.” 

It sounded weak. 

“Apparently everyone knew anyway.” 

She had the right to know that at least. 

“What? Knew about what?” Jemma asked, bringing her head up. 

“That we were together.” 

Jemma’s eyes went wide.

“Fitz I didn’t tell anyone, I promise you I didn’-” Jemma started

Oh my god. Is that what she thought? Shit.

“Jemma no!! I know! I know you didn’t.” He assured. 

“What I meant was, even if you did, it wouldn’t have mattered.” 

“Were they horrible about it?” 

Her voice went small again, and her eyes were glazed with unbroken tears. Fitz couldn’t bear it. 

“Nope. Believe it or not, no one even cared.” 

That was the worst part. The part that still haunted him. Some of the tears broke free and fell down Jemma’s cheeks. He wished he’d never done it. Never hurt her. Fuck. 

“Jemma, I feel so guilty about what I said to you, a-about how it would be bad if people found out about us. I’m so sorry. That-that was just all in my head. I think- I-uh, I think I just get anxious about those kinds of things. And I know that’s no excuse, but, but it’s an explanation at least, and fuck that’s-that’s the very least that I owe you. I still think about it all the time.” 

It was true. It was with him always. Fitz took in a deep shuddering breath before continuing. 

“I still think about how I acted and how truly fucked up it was and I’m so sorry Jemma. I really am sorry.” 

He felt his voice breaking, his eyes stinging with tears. Jemma sniffed as silent tears rolled down her face. She hadn’t stopped looking at him this entire time. Her hands came up to wipe her face, and she was quiet for a moment. 

“I forgive you Fitz.” She said, her voice barely audible. 

Fitz sucked in a deep breath at her words and felt the tears fall down his cheeks. He didn’t deserve one single bit of her. 

“Thank you.” 

It was all he could manage. 

They sat in silence a while longer, tears streaming down both faces. Despite this, once he had calmed down a bit, Fitz felt, for the first time in many, many months, an immeasurable feeling of peace. Jemma wiped her eyes and offered him some more tea. They moved on. 

The next time Fitz saw Jemma was a few days later. It was Bobbi’s birthday, and her parents had some big house they were letting her use just outside of London. Fitz had offered to drive. He smiled when he saw her, but clutched the case of beer in his hand a little tighter. 

“Are you sure you’re okay driving me?” She asked as they walked to his car. 

Fitz furrowed his brow, but smiled. 

“Yeah. Course. We’re going to the same place aren’t we?” 

Jemma just smiled at him. She pulled a small silver hip flask out of her jacket pocket, and took a long swig. 

“You hadn’t promised Hannah a lift or something?” 

To any passerby it wouldn’t sound as loaded a question as it actually was. Fitz squirmed.

“H-how did you-” He started.

“Jamie told me. Plus, Hannah might have mentioned something. She saw you at Will’s party. When she found out I knew you, the next day, she may have asked for your number.” Jemma explained, taking another pull from her hip flask. 

Fitz sighed. That explained a few things. He watched as Jemma fiddled with the cap of her flask. 

“What are you drinking?” He asked, getting a whiff of something strong from her direction. 

“Gin.” 

“And?” 

“Gin.” Jemma grinned, tucking the flask away again. 

Fitz just blinked at her. How was she drinking that with a straight face? 

“She was talking about you. Hannah I mean.” Jemma continued. 

Fitz did not want to have this conversation with her. Most of the time, he just tried to put that night out of his mind. Thankfully, his eyes landed on his car. Hopefully he could change the topic.

“Are you guys fighting or something?” 

Fitz couldn’t help but laugh. He’d barely even seen Hannah since that night. They’d texted a couple of times, all friendly, all polite, but nothing flirty, or as Jemma was suggesting, hostile.

“No. Did she say we were fighting?” He asked, suddenly concerned. 

“No. She said you went home together. That you were kind of seeing each other.” 

He sighed.

“Not really. Not exactly talked enough to be fighting.” He mumbled, his face burning. 

“It was just, casual.” Fitz continued.

For some reason, he still felt this overwhelming need to explain to her. For her to fully understand. 

“Funny, that’s exactly what she said.” 

Jemma gave a little half laugh as she spoke. 

“Is that what you agreed to tell people, if they asked?” Jemma queried, her face still smiling at him. 

Fitz stared at his shoes as they walked. Anything but this. 

“We didn’t agree anything.” He mumbled. 

“As far as I was aware, it was a one time thing.” He continued, still not looking at her. 

Jemma let out a small noise. Whether it was of agreement or understanding, or anything, Fitz wasn’t sure. They reached his car, and Fitz fumbled in his pockets for his keys. 

“You have a nice face.” Jemma mused, leaning against the side of his car. 

Fitz let out a small laugh and looked up at her. 

“You’re getting drunk.” 

It was the only explanation. 

“No! Really! People have said that to me. That you have a nice face!” She insisted. 

It seemed important that he know that. Jemma let out a long deep sigh as Fitz opened the boot. 

“I just broke up with Will.”   
  


Fitz whipped his head round to look at her. 

“W-what?” 

“Yeah. About an hour ago actually.” 

That explained it.

“Is that why you’re drinking gin on gin?” 

Fitz looked at her. Studied her face. She didn’t seem upset. She wasn’t okay, that much he knew. But she wasn’t upset. 

“No. Didn’t hurt that much actually.” She replied, shaking her head. 

Fitz knew she was telling the truth. 

“Are you okay?” 

It seemed the right thing to ask. Jemma just shrugged at him. 

“I think I’m just a fundamentally cold and unfeeling person. I feel absolutely fine” Jemma mused. 

No. 

“No. Jemma. You’re not like that.” Fitz protested. 

She ignored him. 

“We just weren’t meant to be.” She continued. 

Fitz had to bite back the laugh that threatened to rise at the back of his throat. 

“Jemma, I think I could have told you that.” Fitz half smiled, slamming the boot shut.

Jemma just smiled at him as she reached for the handle on the passenger side. She knew what he was doing. 

The drive was fine. They chatted idly, Jemma sipping every now and again on her flask of gin. She got more relaxed the longer they drove, but Fitz put that down to the gin, rather than his company. 

The house was already full of drunk people by the time they arrived. Jemma shot off to find Bobbi and the rest of them, meanwhile Fitz managed to mumble something about finding a fridge. Part of him was glad for such an early escape. He found Bobbi and wished her a happy birthday, before retreating away to some corner with his bottle of beer. He’d only have the one. He had to drive him and Jemma back tomorrow, and it wasn’t late. He found himself sequestered on some balcony a few hours later, making idle chit chat with a guy who was on his course. It wasn’t groundbreaking conversation, but it passed the time. He’d seen Jemma in passing a few times. He didn’t know why then he was surprised to see her coming up the stairs and towards him. She was drunk. Fitz could tell that much from just looking at her. 

“You’ve been off with Hannah, have you?” She asked quietly. 

The music wasn’t so loud up here, so he could hear her, could hear the slur in her speech. Fitz raised his eyebrows at her. 

“Have I?” 

She just looked at him, her eyes glazed over. 

“You’re utterly steaming Jemma.” 

He wasn’t wrong. He could smell the drink on her. She continued to move closer to him. Her hand found his arm. She just laughed. 

“Hannah’s not actually here.” Fitz explained, as Jemma continued to look at him. 

Her hand seemed to burn through his shirt. She hadn’t touched him like this in a long time.

“Do you like her better than me?” 

Jemma’s voice was slurred but, Fitz knew, he just did, that this had been bothering her.

“No. I don’t actually really know her that well, Jemma.” 

It was true. He didn’t. He just wanted to forget that night with Hannah had ever happened. 

“Was she better in bed than me?” 

Jemma’s voice was small. Fitz hated it. 

“You’re drunk Jemma. You’d never ask me that sober.” 

She didn’t answer him. Fitz watched as her eyes flitted down to his lips, watched her make the decision behind her eyes. She leaned forward and captured his lips with her own. For a moment, Fitz forgot. For a moment, he relished in the feeling of her. Then the taste of drink from her lips found its way into his mouth and he remembered and pulled back. 

“Jemma no. You’re drunk.” He repeated. 

She pouted at him. 

“Fitz.”

He shook his head. 

“I want _ you  _ Fitz.” She whispered. 

Fitz just shook his head. 

“No, Jemma. Not like this. You’re drunk.” 

“Is that the only reason?” 

She was getting upset now. But Fitz couldn’t figure out what else to do. He wouldn’t take advantage of her. She was upset and she was very drunk. He couldn’t. It would be so wrong. 

“Yeah.” He admitted. 

“Just kiss me then Fitz.” 

She looked up at him, her eyes boring into his. Fitz leaned down and kissed her briefly, but softly. He had to pull away from her. He wanted to stop. 

“Go lie down Jemma. I’ll see you in the morning.” He whispered. 

Jemma just nodded at him. He saw her onto the couch in the corner, found a blanket and made sure she was lying on her side. She was asleep before Fitz had even straightened up. Fitz sat on the floor by her feet and closed his eyes, willing the heat in his blood to calm down, for the tingle in his lips to go away.

When Fitz opened his eyes the next morning, Jemma was gone. She couldn’t have gone far. He wasn’t worried. He texted her to meet him outside, and pushed himself up, his neck groaning at the position he’d just spent the past few hours in. 

Jemma gave him a small smile as she emerged from the front door, carrying her jacket and a bottle of water. She greeted him softly and headed to the car. The drive back was all but silent. Fitz offered to go through some drive through and get them some food. Jemma shook her head, saying that food of any kind was the last thing she wanted to see right now. Fitz couldn’t blame her. 

Jemma didn’t immediately get out of the car when he pulled up outside her flat. He’d half expected her to bolt out as fast as she could, and not look back. It’s probably what he would have done. 

“I’m sorry about last night.” Jemma said quietly. 

She was staring a hole into his dashboard. 

“It’s fine. We can just forget about it if you want.” Fitz said quickly. 

He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it. To be perfectly honest, he wasn’t quite sure what it had all meant. Did Jemma still like him like that then? She was quiet for another moment. 

“I-I think it would be difficult for us to stay friends if one of us keeps trying to sleep with the other.”

This statement didn’t help at all. Did she not even want to be friends now? Fitz just nodded. He had no idea what to say. They were both quiet for another moment. 

“Do you want to come in? Have so-some tea or something?” Jemma offered. 

This took him by surprise. He thought she never wanted to see him again, but now? He understood. Another loaded question. Fitz reached for his car keys and turned off his engine without thinking. 

“S-sure.” 

He knew what he was agreeing to really. 

Jemma led him silently into the flat, and turned to him only when they reached the kitchen. 

“I’m just quickly going to jump in the shower. Wash last night off.” Jemma said with a small smile. 

Fitz nodded.

“Make some tea whilst you wait? You know where everything is?” She asked. 

“Y-yeah.” Fitz stuttered. 

He heard the sound of the shower turning on as he filled the kettle. His hands shook as he opened the tin where Jemma kept her tea bags. He sat down at the kitchen table and downed his cup as fast as the heat would let him. He could feel the hot liquid travelling down his body. Just as he was contemplating if there was such a thing as an Irish Tea, Jemma appeared at the door, her hair wet, dressed in a robe. She looked at him nervously. His eyes caught hers. It was okay. Somehow, they seemed to be able to communicate that silently now. Jemma shuffled over and stood in front of him. Her eyes joined with his again and they made a silent agreement. Jemma brought her hand up and tangled her fingers in his hair. God, he had missed her doing that. Fitz brought his hand up and began to pull at the ties of her robe. He pushed the two halves apart, revealing a long, pale swathe of skin to him. He’d missed her so much. Fitz wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her to him, pressing his lips gently to the skin he’d just uncovered. He heard Jemma’s breath catch above him. It was the most beautiful sound. 

“Come to bed then.” 

Jemma’s voice was hardly audible as Fitz pulled away from her. He could only nod. 

She took him by the hand and led him gently to her room. Her hand slid from his and she sat on the edge of the bed. It felt like that first time all over again. Fitz just looked at her for a moment, aware of the shake in his breath. She was so beautiful. But he wanted to be sure. Their eyes caught together again, and he could see what she was thinking. And he knew. Still, he moved tentatively forward and kissed her. It didn’t stay soft for long. Jemma slid her tongue against his bottom lip and he was gone. He was hers. Jemma leaned back on the bed, pulling her with him. How could he ever have lived without this? All rational thoughts seemed to slip from his head as Jemma pulled him closer, as he buried his face in her neck, kissing and sucking at her pulse point as she fisted the bottom of his t-shirt in her hands and began to pull up. Fitz broke away from her with great reluctance, pulling his shirt over his head. Jemma began raining kisses on his stomach and he wondered if this was what heaven felt like. He wasn’t religious by any means, but still, he wondered. Tossing his jumper somewhere over his shoulder, he was past caring about anything that wasn’t Jemma at this point, he cupped her face in his hands and guided her face up to look at him. Her eyes were wide, and she wore a small smile. Desire, he recognised. For him. It still took him by surprise. He brought her face up to meet his, and pressed a kiss gently on her forehead. He was trying to say so much. He could only hope she understood. 

Their lips met again in a messy kiss. Jemma was distracted, trying to push his trousers down his legs. Eventually, he struggled out of them, kicking them and his shoes off to some far off land, and Jemma pulled them back to the bed again. He littered every inch of her with kisses. Every spot he could find. The gasp she let out when his mouth found its way down and wrapped around her nipple was otherworldly. His fingers ran through her folds and he slipped one finger lazily inside of her as he worked his way around her. Her breathy sighs, the gasps she let out, that had once been so familiar to him, felt new again. The way she clenched around his finger, which he stroked knowingly inside of her, as he mapped her skin with his lips was the most perfect torture. Eventually, she pulled him back up to her, pressing her lips desperately against his own. She flipped them over, straddling his waist, and tossed her robe away into the far off distance. Jemma ran her hands over him lightly, caressing his face and shoulders. He had missed her so much.

Fitz couldn’t tell you where she’d pulled a condom from, how she managed to get it on him, only the feeling of being inside her once more. It was like nothing else. He ran his hands over every inch of her, pulling her closer, pushing himself deeper. Their lips hardly parted. They moaned and sighed into each other's mouths and it was utter perfection. Fitz’s hands found her hips and they moved together in unison. There was almost no need to talk, they just knew. They knew each other so well now. 

After, they lay tangled together on her bed. Fitz’s head rested on her stomach, and Jemma ran her fingers lazily through his hair. His head still rang. He could still feel every part of it in his fingers and toes. But Jemma, just her, was the best feeling of all. 

“It’s not like this with other people.” Jemma murmured quietly. 

Fitz knew what she meant. 

“I know.” 

He closed his eyes, and allowed himself to enjoy this. Enjoy this shining moment with Jemma. 

“I think we’ll be fine.” 

They would be. They had to be. Otherwise he wouldn’t know what to do, he thought, before he drifted off into an easy sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you sosososossososososososoSO much for reading!!! I still feel like I am utterly out of my depth with this fic sometimes, and you all coming back every week and reading and commenting and kudosing really does mean the utter world. Thank you.
> 
> I will hopefully see you next week. 
> 
> Skye :)


	6. Retreat.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz and Jemma are together and it’s the happiest Fitz has ever been. Bad news threatens everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific trigger warnings: Explicit sexual content, mention of anxiety and mention of domestic abuse. 
> 
> Surprise! Guess who got the chapter finished SUPER early this week? Also this fic is OFFICIALLY at the halfway point, and boy oh boy what a chapter it is. I really cannot believe it’s halfway done. I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do with myself when it’s finished. ANYWAY, hold onto your hats because A LOT happens in this chapter. A LOT. Anyway, enough with my usual ramblings, I will let you get on with the reading!

Fitz pressed his head against the cool glass of Jemma’s door. His chest felt tight. His ears rang. He felt sick. He couldn’t bear it. He had to get out of here. The place smelt like her and he couldn’t take it. Faintly, he heard the sound of glass smashing in the distance. He couldn’t take it in. Tears wanted to sting at the corners of his eyes but he forced them down. Not here. Fitz’s hand scrabbled for the door handle, and he ripped it open, blindly pushing it shut behind him, as he aimlessly bolted out into the cool night air. 

**Six weeks earlier.**

Fitz was happy. So incredibly happy. For the past four or so months, his time had been spent exclusively between four things. Work, uni, the library and Jemma. Jemma was his favourite of the four, even over uni. Hunter whinged that they never saw him anymore. Fitz was spending most of his evenings, mornings and afternoons at Jemma’s, so perhaps he had a point. He couldn’t remember ever being this happy, not in his entire life. Jemma seemed brighter too, and that made it all the better. They hadn’t defined what they were. Not really. But with Fitz staying with her almost every night and them sleeping together on the regular, neither of them had felt the need to. There was a mutual, if unspoken, agreement. He was hers. She was his. 

“Stay.” 

Jemma’s voice came tinkling from across the kitchen. Fitz looked up at her and saw her smiling. God he loved it when she smiled. 

“I can’t.” He reasoned.

He didn’t want that to be his answer. He wished it could be just them all the time. 

“I don’t have class until three.” Jemma offered. 

“I have to go home and get some stuff, and Hunter, though he’d never say it, worries about me.” 

It was true. But Hunter was a good mate like that. Jemma’s face wrinkled into a smile again, and she laughed. It was the best sound. 

“That’s nice.” 

She meant it. 

“I like Hunter, even though I haven’t met him yet.” She mused. 

Fitz grinned. 

“Is he your best friend, would you say?” She asked. 

Fitz just blinked at her and he smiled, shaking his head. 

“No.” He replied, pushing himself up and out of his chair. 

Jemma furrowed her brow. Confusion, Fitz recognised. He grinned even wider. 

“You are.” 

Jemma beamed at his words. He meant it. She was the best thing he knew. Fitz didn’t hesitate before capturing her lips in a fierce kiss. Jemma responded with equal enthusiasm, and before he knew it, he was lifting her up and onto the kitchen counter. Her hands were pulling at his shirt, coaxing it over his shoulders, as he pulled at her pyjama top, tossing it off into the distance. His head spun with her. He’d never get tired of this. Of her. Fitz felt constantly aglow these days. Like happiness just came off of him in waves. His life was perfect and it was all because of Jemma. 

Going back to the house felt strange. He heard the shower going as he walked in. He checked around for Izzy and Idaho, but they must be away at class or something. He couldn’t actually remember the last night he’d spent here. Jemma’s flat was nicer anyway. She had a double bed, and didn’t have Hunter snoring away in the corner. And Jemma herself. That was the best addition to this new part of his life. He stuffed clothes unceremoniously into a bag, hoping he could get enough in to tide him over for the next little while. He hated having to come back here. He picked up a t-shirt and gave it a cautionary whiff, before chucking it carelessly into the pile for the washing. 

“Ah the ghost of Christmas past!” 

Fitz about jumped out of his skin. He turned and saw Hunter grinning at him, his toothbrush lolling out of his mouth. 

“Hunter, jesus christ.” Fitz breathed, trying to get his breathing back to normal. 

Hunter just laughed. 

“I thought I heard someone coming in. I thought we were being robbed to be honest with you. You still live here then?” Hunter joked.

Fitz rolled his eyes, but smiled. 

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about. I still pay the rent and you get the room to yourself.” Fitz grumbled. 

“Complaining?!” Hunter replied with obvious outrage. 

“I’m utterly delighted mate without your lovesick arse around here moping about every five minutes. Speaking of, how is the lovely Jemma?” Hunter asked, brandishing his toothbrush dramatically. 

“Yeah, yeah she’s good.” Fitz smiled.

It was a natural reaction when he was talking about her these days.

“Is she your girlfriend yet?” 

Fitz winced. They hadn’t exactly put a label on what it was they were. Fitz liked whatever it was they were right now. He didn’t want to ruin that.

“No.” He mumbled. 

Hunter rolled his eyes dramatically and threw himself down onto his bed. 

“Oh mate come on! What are you waiting for?” 

Fitz could only shrug. He didn’t want to ruin things. Not again. 

“She’s too good for you Fitz.” Hunter sighed at him.

“I know.” 

Hunter just looked at him. 

“Can you please give me grief about this later? I need to go. I have a class.” Fitz lied.

Really he just wanted to stop having this conversation. He zipped up his bag and headed for the door. 

“Oh sure! I cannot  _ wait _ for that one.” Hunter shouted at his retreating back.

Fitz knew he was only half joking. 

His mum called later that afternoon. She’d been thrilled, if not a little bit sceptical when Fitz had told her he was seeing Jemma again. Fitz could hardly blame her, not after last time. 

“How’s Jemma?” Lorna’s voice sounded down the phone.

This was a regular question now. Fitz knew that she actually wanted to know. She wasn’t just being polite. She’d always liked Jemma. 

“Yep she’s good!” Fitz smiled down the phone. 

There was a pause. Even now, even when she was hundreds of miles away, Fitz could just picture his mum’s face. 

“I hope you’re being more appreciative of her these days Leo.” 

Fitz rolled his eyes and let out a long sigh. This again. 

“Well?” Lorna questioned. 

“I told you, I apologised for, you know, before. And Jemma doesn’t bring it up every five minutes like you do. She’s not dwelling on it, I don’t know why you are.” Fitz grumbled. 

“How would you feel if I kept doing on at you for something stupid you did when you were eighteen? 

Lorna just laughed down the phone.

“Darling, you  _ are  _ the something stupid I did when I was eighteen.” Lorna smiled. 

Fitz laughed. 

“Well thanks for that. Makes me feel really special, that does.” He smiled. 

Lorna just laughed again. 

“Anyway, did you hear back from your tutor yet? The one who said he’d look over that design of yours?” 

Just after the Christmas break, one of his tutors, Dr Radcliffe, had pulled him to one side, asked him if he had anything he was working on, that he’d love to see it. Fitz had managed to stammer out that he had. He’d emailed him one of the blueprints for one of his little miniaturised drones. It was the most fleshed out of all of his ideas. 

“No, not yet.” Fitz mumbled. 

“But I’m sure he’s got better things to be doing than looking over some first years crappy design ideas.”

“Hey! Don’t sell yourself short! He’ll get back to you soon. It will be so good for you to get some proper feedback from someone who knows what they’re talking about, rather than just having me smiling and nodding at you.” Lorna scolded.

Fitz gave a small smile.

“Yeah.”

“Look I need to run, but I’ll chat to you again soon darlin’.” Lorna sighed down the phone. 

“Yeah, I’ll chat to you soon. Love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

Fitz hung up the phone with a sigh. He pushed the design out of his mind, and instead thought of more pleasant things, like what he and Jemma were going to have for dinner tonight, and the sound she made when he sucked on the hollow of her throat. 

That Friday found them at a small party at Jemma’s flat. There were a few faces he didn’t recognise, and some, unfortunately that he did. He saw Hannah, not long after he’d entered. She’d texted him a couple of times in the past few months. All of which he’d ignored. Fitz had hidden himself in a corner with Jemma, hoping that she’d ignore him all evening. Jemma was curled up in an armchair, nursing her glass of wine, whilst Fitz tried to disappear into the squashy sofa he found himself on across from her. The room quieted down as a bunch of people went out for a smoke. Fitz had rolled his eyes at them. He’d never understand people who smoked. It did mean that it was just him and Jemma for the moment. Other people were milling about but they weren’t really paying much attention to them. But then he felt the sofa sink next to him, and his stomach dropped. Hannah was staring at them, her eyes wide. She was drunk. Jemma greeted her politely, before asking if Fitz wanted another drink. He just shook his head. He didn’t really want to be left alone with Hannah right now. He tried to pretend she wasn’t there. But even conversation with Jemma could not erase her presence. 

“You guys are fucking right?” Hannah interjected. 

Fitz whipped his head around to look at her. His face burned. But then he remembered. It wasn’t a secret. Not this time. 

“Y-you’re together?” She continued.

Fitz stared at her blankly. He didn’t want to answer it.

“Yes, yes we are.” Jemma replied.

Fitz heaved a large sigh. Thank god for her. 

“And for months, right?! We’ve  _ all  _ been speculating, even though you never actually talk to each other” Hannah drawled.

Fitz felt his cheeks burn. The thought that people had been talking about them behind their backs made him feel ill. But it was true. When they were in a group, when they were with Jemma’s friends, they didn’t interact much. They chatted. Fitz hated pda. Holding her hand when they were walking down the street was all fine and well, but kissing her, holding her close to him, it all felt, oddly private to him. That was just for them. No one else. 

“It’s not new.” Jemma grinned at her. 

She sounded very prim and polite, but Fitz saw the tension in her shoulders.

“We used to hook up in school. Secretly.” She continued. 

It had the intended effect, and Fitz, who felt like someone had a firm grasp on his throat, had to conceal a grin. Hannah was taken aback for a moment. Her eyes flitted between them. Fitz wasn’t sure if it was disbelief, or maybe something else.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying that now?” Jemma quickly added, her eyes finding his.

It was like the grasp loosened on his throat for a second.

“N-no. Not at all.” He managed to sputter out.

Jemma turned back to Hannah. She took a sip from her wine. Fitz knew she was daring her to say something, anything. Jemma had surprised her. That much he knew. Fitz dared to look at Hannah, and was equally surprised. Hannah had wiped the look from her face, and wore a fake looking smile. 

“Well, you made a very cute couple.” She grinned falsely at them, taking a long drink from her glass, settling herself back into the sofa cushions.

“C-couple?!” Fitz spat, before he could stop himself.

That was a word no one, not even Fitz, had allowed himself to associate with himself and Jemma. It felt too real. His eyes found Jemma’s again. She looked equally taken aback. Hannah’s eyes went wide. 

“Oh! Are you not exclusive?” Hannah exclaimed. 

Fitz stuttered. They’d never talked about this. Not out loud. Hannah carried on, ignoring Fitz’s reaction. 

“That’s cool. I  _ wanted  _ to try that with the guy I was seeing, but he was not down for it. Funny, I thought every guy would jump at the idea of multiple partners.” Hannah rambled on. 

Fitz stiffened. He didn’t like where this conversation was headed. He caught Jemma’s eyes again. She looked as startled as he felt. 

“If I were a man-” Hannah continued.

“I would have three girlfriends.” 

“That sounds very stressful Hannah.” 

Jemma found her voice again. Fitz was grateful. 

“What about you?” 

Fitz felt Hannah’s eyes on him. He wanted to evaporate. To be anywhere else in the world. 

“Do _you_ not fantasise about having multiple women at once?” Hannah asked  with a grin. 

Fitz shook his head fiercely. Words weren’t happening. His brain was making connections and he could see where she was going with this. He wanted it to stop. 

“If you wanted…” Hannah started, her voice dropping low.

Fitz felt his whole body tense. He didn’t even want to look at her. 

“...the three of us could-” 

“No!” Jemma interrupted. 

Thank god for her. Fitz pulled at the label on his beer bottle, willing his breath to even out. 

“I’m far too self conscious.” Jemma protested. 

“But what about-” Hannah started. 

“No.” Jemma interrupted again. 

“I just couldn’t see myself doing that. Not with anyone.” 

Hannah sat forward. She took a sip of her drink and stared at the two of them.

“Well. That’s my answer to that then. I won’t intrude on you any longer.” 

Fitz detected an undertone to her voice, but he couldn’t make out what it was. He was far too distracted. Jemma just nodded at her as she got up and left, leaving them alone. Jemma sighed, and stood up, before tossing herself on the couch, her head landing on Fitz’s lap. 

“Thank you.” He murmured.

“You saved me there.” He said quietly, running his fingers through the ends of her hair.

“No problem. I could see you were uncomfortable. That you wouldn’t want to.” Jemma sighed, closing her eyes. 

A thought occurred to Fitz. 

“W-would you have wanted to? With her??” He stammered.

“Not with her no. I don’t know. If you had wanted to, with someone else, I don’t know. I would have at least considered it.”

“W-why?”   
  


Jemma opened her eyes again, looking up at him.

“If it had made you happy-” She started. 

“Jemma. No.” He breathed. 

“Y-you can’t just do things you don’t want to to make other people happy.”

Jemma just shrugged. 

“I like doing things for you. I like making you happy.” She reasoned, closing her eyes.

Fitz stammered for a moment, trying to find an argument, but he couldn’t. She once said she’d have let him do anything to her. Unbidden to him, long buried images of his father and mother rose to the front of his mind. He winced as he watched his father's hand come down. But then the figures were replaced with him and Jemma and he suddenly felt like he was going to be sick. 

“Uh- sorry Jemma.” He stammered, pushing her head from his lap and standing up. 

He paced for a moment, before sitting in the armchair she’d occupied before. Jemma sat up, looking at him in alarm. 

“What is it? H-have I done something to upset you Fitz? I-I’m sorry if I have, I jus-” 

“No- no. Never Jemma. I just, I felt a bit weird. That’s all.” Fitz protested. 

His hands shook in his lap. He tangled them together, trying to get them to stop. Trying to rid the image from his consciousness. Wishing it had never appeared in the first place. He was quiet for a moment. Eventually his hands stilled.

“I-I’m sorry Jemma. I don’t know what that was. I’m fine.” He lied. 

Looking up, his eyes found hers. She was worried. 

“I-I promise Jemma. Really. I-I’m fine. Honest.” 

He wasn’t sure if she believed him or not, but she seemed to relax. Getting up, she pulled at him, and wrapped her arms around him. He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in. He tried to forget. 

He woke up early the next morning. The light streaming through Jemma’s curtains caught him in the eyes. Jemma was still asleep. He ran his fingers through her hair, and pulled her closer towards him. She was warm. His movements must have jostled her slightly, and he saw her eyes fluttering. 

“Jemma.” He murmured.

He had to do this now. Her eyes opened, and she gave a small smile. Fitz felt her stretching out her legs. 

“Uhm, last night, I-I just-” He started.

He had to explain. He felt like he needed to. 

She kissed him, stopping his words. Fitz knew then that she knew. And he was grateful. 

“You know I really love you don’t you?” He whispered. 

Her eyes found his. It was okay. He leaned forward and kissed her and everything was right in the world again. Jemma was here and it was all going to be okay. The kiss deepened from something sleepy to something much more intense. Fitz’s hands roamed over her body gently, carefully. He could feel her getting worked up by the time his hands grazed her thighs. She gasped into his mouth and Fitz felt his heart pulse. He loved her so much. Her head tipped back as his fingers ran through her folds and he took the opportunity to litter kisses down her throat. She was so beautiful. He felt her clench around his fingers as they worked carefully inside of her. He couldn’t just say it anymore. He wanted to show her. She whined as he pulled his fingers from her. She was close, but that wasn’t how he wanted this to end. Thank god Jemma went on birth control, a small voice at the back of his head thought. But then he was pushing inside of her and nothing else mattered. For the first time, truly, it felt like they were making love, not just fucking. And it was everything. 

Fitz held her a little closer, afterwards. Jemma was going home today for a few days, for her mother's birthday. Even the thought of her going was enough to make his heart wrench. 

“I’ll miss you.” He murmured sleepily. 

“I’ll miss you too.” She replied, snuggling closer into him.

He smiled. Running his hands over her bare waist, he savoured the feel of her. The touch of her. He knew it was only a weekend, she’d be back on Monday, but he would miss her all the same. What he would do without her, he did not know. 

Fitz went reluctantly into work that afternoon. He didn’t exactly love his job waiting tables, but it paid the bills. He was pulling chairs down from where they’d been stacked up on the tables when his boss called him into the back office. It took a minute before Fitz realised what it was exactly he was telling him.

“Y-you’re letting me go?” He asked in disbelief. 

“Just for the summer! We’d love to have you back in August. But with the university finishing up at the end of May, our footfall is going to go down dramatically, and it just makes sense to do the renovations then.” His boss explained. 

Fitz just blinked at him until he was dismissed, nodding aimlessly. Fuck. Fuck. He looked at his bank account when he got home that night. Fuck. He hadn’t got enough saved to last him through the summer. Not by a long shot. He slammed his fist against the kitchen table. Fuck. Hunter came running in at the sound. Fitz let out a sigh and explained. 

“They’re keeping all my shifts right through till May, but what the fuck am I supposed to do after that? Look for a job right through the middle of exams?!” Fitz finished. 

Hunter looked at him, his brow furrowed.

“I’m sorry mate. I really am. It’s piss poor timing on their part.” Hunter sighed.

“Look, if it’s any help, I can sublet this place for you, just for the summer mind. It’ll still be here in September for you.” He offered.

Fitz thought about it. It would take away his greatest financial burden. But also he’d be homeless. 

“Thanks. M’ sorry.” Fitz mumbled.

Hunter would really be helping him out, and it would be a faff to do it. He didn’t need to. He was a good mate. 

”Guess that’s me back to the good old Glasgow suburbs for the summer then.” Fitz muttered bitterly. 

“No!” Hunter immediately protested. 

Fitz just looked at him. He didn’t fancy kipping on some street corner for three months. 

“Just stay with Jemma for a few weeks until you find another job.” 

Hunter said it as though it were obvious. But it wasn’t. Fitz’s chest seemed to tighten at the mere suggestion. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. He just shook his head. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hunter throw his hands up dramatically. 

“You  _ cannot  _ be fucking serious mate!” Hunter exclaimed. 

“What?” Fitz grumbled.

He could guess what Hunter was going to say. He didn’t get it. Didn’t get how things were between them.

“Mate, you spend almost every night at her house!! The only time you come here is when you’re working late and even then I know you’d rather be with her.” Hunter protested.

“That’s different. I don’t  _ live _ with her.”   
  


It was weak and he knew it.

“How the hell is it different?! You think if you move your toothbrush into the bathroom she’ll suddenly see red or something?! Fitz, you’re one of my best mates, truly, but you’re being monumentally stupid right now.” Hunter exclaimed. 

“Piss off.” Fitz grumbled.

“I-I just wouldn’t  _ want  _ to ask her.” 

It felt too big. Too much to ask. He didn’t even know if she’d say yes. He might be fucked either way. Hunter rolled his eyes dramatically at him.

“Mate, I give up with this. Honestly. Do what you want, but I sure as hell can’t get my head around it.” Hunter sighed, before turning on his heel and leaving.

For the first time Hunter’s words had made Fitz feel truly uncomfortable. But he didn’t know what else to do. A sense of unease seemed to settle in his chest. Fitz didn’t like it at all. 

He was so so glad to see Jemma when she came home. She seemed off when Fitz arrived at the door. He hadn’t expected anything less really. She didn’t talk about it, but Fitz could guess that her relationship with her mother and brother wasn’t easy. He just kissed her and pulled her into a hug. Jemma didn’t say anything, but her arms wound tight around him told him all he needed to know. The unease in Fitz’s chest seemed to lift slightly, just by her mere presence. They ended up curled together on her bed, watching some film on her laptop. Fitz wasn’t really paying it much attention. His mind was too busy. The credits began to roll and he heard Jemma sniffing quietly next to him. He knew he hadn’t really been paying attention, but the ending hadn’t been that sad, had it? He shut the laptop and shifted slightly.

“Are you alright Jemma?” Fitz almost whispered.

“I’m fine.” 

Jemma’s voice was hardly audible. Her hands went to her face, wiping her eyes. 

“T-the film get you?” Fitz asked tentatively. 

He couldn’t think how else to ask. Jemma gave a small shake of her head.

“I’m just feeling a bit off. That’s all.” 

She looked up at him. A small smile spread across her features. It didn’t reach her eyes. Fitz pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. A million thoughts ran through his head. After a moment, his brain seemed to settle on a possible worst case scenario.

“Y-you’re not pregnant are you?” 

The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. His brain flew through the motions of what he’d do if she said yes. They were only eighteen. Jemma gave a small huff of laughter, and shook her head. Every muscle in Fitz’s body relaxed. He didn’t even know he’d tensed them. 

“No. My period came this morning.” Jemma sniffed. 

Ah. That would explain it. The first two days were rough for her. Fitz had learned that. 

“Can I get you anything?” He offered weakly.

He always felt a bit useless when Jemma felt like this. He hated it. She considered him for a moment. 

“Tea.” She replied softly.

Tea. He could do tea. 

“Alright. I’ll be two minutes.” 

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, before shoving the duvet off. It was only by the time he had the teabag in the mug, the sound of the kettle boiling behind him, that Fitz realised how, domestic, this all was. Hunter’s words from the other night seemed to swim in his head. It wasn’t a comfort. Fitz’s chest seemed to tighten at the realisation. He had so much to lose. And he could feel it slipping through his fingers already.

Jemma sipped her tea whilst Fitz scrolled through his phone. She was happier already. He just knew. He heard the clink of her mug against the bedside table, felt her nudging at his arm. He put his phone down, and wrapped his arms around her. He felt her lips press softly on his chest. Fitz closed his eyes. Let this moment go on forever, he thought. Let me live in this. 

The joy of that night stayed with him for a few days. He put the rest of his problems out of his mind. An email brought it all crashing down. Dr Radcliffe was nice about it. The gist of the thing was that he didn’t think it was well developed enough. It needed more work. Simply put, at the moment, it was just one small drone, with a sensor that wouldn’t exist without five years of development behind it. He’d asked Fitz to send him more. He couldn’t. It felt devastating. He thought it had been good. Fitz didn’t tell anyone. He’d only really told his mum, and Jemma, and he figured she’d forgotten about it. She hadn’t asked about it in a while. Everything was going wrong.

It dominated his brain for a while. All he could think was that he had failed. His first proper test. Proper feedback. And he had failed. Even a few weeks later, it was all he could think.

“How’s Jemma?” Hunter asked, breaking him from his silent reverie.

He hadn’t seen much of Hunter recently. They decided to meet up between classes. Something brief was better than nothing at all. 

“Have you asked her about moving in yet?”

So he was still on that was he? Fitz’s mind seemed to swirl.

“No.” He replied, with a small shake of his head.

“What is it exactly that’s stopping you mate?” Hunter asked. 

Fitz looked up at him. His face must have looked like thunder because Hunter recoiled slightly.

“I’m just trying to understand here.” 

Fitz tried to relax his face, and sighed. Eventually he just stopped looking for words and just shrugged. Hunter just shook his head, and thankfully let the topic go. Fitz was grateful. He didn’t want to think about it at all. 

Fitz felt like he was moving about in a daze. It was as if his life was not his own anymore. He just went through the motions. The only time he felt somewhat alive was when he was with Jemma. But even that felt tinged now. Even now, sat in Jemma’s living room, listening to Daisy and Jamie argue about the patriarchy, it all just felt like white noise. He couldn’t concentrate. Jamie had been flirting with Jemma, that much he knew. It was no secret that he liked her. Fitz didn’t blame him. But did he have to do it in front of him? He watched as Jamie gestured wildly, watched as he brought his hand back down to rest of Jemma’s leg. This made him feel ill. He couldn’t watch. He had to go. He excused himself to get another drink. The kitchen tap had been running for a few seconds before Fitz realised he didn’t have a glass. He picked one up and filled it and took a few gulps. He just needed everything to stop for a moment. Just for a moment. Just to let him figure things out. He only needed a moment. He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Jemma. She looked concerned.

“Are you okay?” She asked, her voice gently.

Fitz put his glass down. 

“Why does he always do that?” Fitz asked, the words escaping from him before he could think better of it.

Jemma furrowed her brow.

“Jamie. He’s al-always got his hands all over you.” Fitz mumbled bitterly. 

Jemma scoffed at him, but she looked taken aback. 

“What?!” She exclaimed.

She was right. Now that the words were out of his mouth they sounded weak, and stupid. Shallow.

“ _ You  _ don’t want to touch me but you want to dictate who else can?” 

She was angry. 

“I do touch you.” Fitz protested. 

“Yes, Fitz you do, but only when there’s about six locked doors between us and any other person! God forbid anyone witness you showing any kind of physical affection towards me!” She shouted. 

Fitz stammered. He didn’t know how to say what he was thinking without it sounding stupid. Touching her was, private. But he couldn’t say that without sounding like an utter wanker. 

“It’s not a big deal Fitz.” Jemma sighed. 

“Jamie is just like that. Forget it. Please. Come back through.” 

She’d moved towards him now, her fingertips ghosting over his hand. Fitz shook his head. He couldn’t. 

“I can’t. I think I’ll just go, Jemma.” He murmured, pulling away from her.

“Don’t.” 

Jemma’s voice had gone soft. She was pleading with him. But he couldn’t. He just, couldn’t.

“No, Jemma. I’m fine. I’m just, I’m just tired.” 

It wasn’t a lie. He’d felt exhausted for weeks now. 

“We’re fine. We’re okay. I promise.” He assured her. 

Her brow was furrowed again. He took up her hand and gave it what he hoped was an assuring squeeze. 

“Please don’t go Fitz.” She whispered. 

He gave her a small smile and nodded. She pulled him gently into a hug. Fitz felt her heave a heavy breath onto his shoulder. He would stay, because she asked him to. Everything would be fine. 

Everything felt off. Every part of his life felt somehow wrong right now. Even Jemma. But Fitz was determined to try. Bobbi had invited them back to her parents place outside of London, a celebration for the end of exams. Fitz still had one exam left, but he knew the material inside out. Normally he would have used that as an excuse, but not now. The house had a pool Fitz hadn’t noticed the last time he’d been there, and Bobbi was set on a pool party. His heart had sunk at the words. But he was determined to try. He milled about whilst Jemma got ready. She looked beautiful. 

“You okay?” Jemma asked, slinging her bag over her arm.

“Y-yeah. I’m just a bit tired.” 

It had become his go-to excuse lately. Everything was piling up. He’d have to deal with everything soon. And he didn’t want to.

“We can just miss it if you want? Stay home?” Jemma offered.

“No!” Fitz protested quickly. 

“No. It was nice of Bobbi to invite us. We should go.” 

Jemma nodded, and held out her hand. Fitz took it with a small smile. 

It wasn’t as bad as he was expecting it to be. His imagination had the tendency to go too far sometimes. Jemma smiled at him from the edge of the pool, her feet dangling in the water. He swam over to her, trying his best to smile back. 

“I’ve been admiring you.” She said gently, quiet enough that only he could hear as he reached her feet. 

He looked up at her for a moment. He loved her so much. Fitz pushed himself out of the pool, and sat himself next to her. He watched their feet for a moment, dangling, distorted by the water. He took a deep breath, and shifted closer to her. On his exhale, he put his arm around her. And suddenly he didn’t care that there were other people about, only that Jemma was one of them. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and he felt her smile. And for the first time in a while, he felt truly happy again. Her fingers laced into his, and the world was okay again. Except for that it wasn’t. Fitz glanced around them quickly. There was no one in hearing distance. He could ask her. 

“Jemma.” He managed to breathe out. 

Her eyes found his, her smile radiating out of them. He couldn’t ask now. He couldn’t ruin it. The words caught in his throat. 

“I-it’s nothing. Forget I said anything.” He smiled. 

He watched her face. He knew she didn’t quite believe him. But she let it go anyway. 

  
  


Later that evening, Fitz found himself walking blindly away from Jemma’s flat. He had no idea where he was going. The distant smash of the glass seemed to ring in his ears. He had lost her. He had lost everything. Everything had been so good, not two months ago. But now it all came crashing down. Fitz stopped walking and braced himself against the wall he found himself by. It was dark and he was shaking. He’d never get her back now. She was utterly lost to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading and I’ll see you next time! 
> 
> Skye :)


	7. Misunderstanding.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz spends the summer at home in Glasgow. Fitz and Jemma realise that they made a fatal misunderstanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific trigger warnings: Anxiety, minor mentions of drug use, brief mention of bdsm, alcohol, swearing, blood, and mention of minor assault. 
> 
> Hello my wonderful lovelies. It’s been a minute. As some of you will have noticed, I have taken a break from updating this fic for a while. My grandad passed away unexpectedly and for a while writing just felt utterly wrong. But I was determined to not abandon this fic. I had most of this chapter written before everything happened, and it was a nice way to kind of ease myself back into it after some time off. It was oddly nice to escape into this world for a while. Got to channel a lot of good early Season 2/3 FS which was fun???? Idk it was a challenge at least. The angst is strangely cathartic. ANYWAY, to the story!

**July.**

Fitz woke up with a groan. He was lying flat out in his bed, still dressed in last night's clothes. His head ached as he tried to remember how he’d even gotten home. Memories started coming back to him piece by piece, and he wished they wouldn’t. He wished he could erase the whole night from his memory. He rubbed groggily at his eyes. Maybe he’d been spending too much time with Milton. Too many nights out. His head throbbed and he groaned again. Fitz kicked off his shoes, and scrabbled for the bedcovers. He pulled them right up over his head. He should just stay here forever. There was nothing else he could be doing. 

**Six weeks earlier.**

The drive back from Bobbi’s place had been uneventful. Jemma kept shooting him funny looks. She knew something was up. By the time they reached her flat again it was dark. They went inside and Jemma started making tea. 

“I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.” She’d asked with a sigh.

Fitz blanched. He’d opened his mouth to reply, but she’d anticipated him. 

“You’ve been off for weeks Fitz. I didn’t want to pry but, I just need to know if you’re okay?” She’d said softly.

Fitz had played with his hands. He didn’t know where to begin really. 

“My-uh, my job let me go. They’re doing renovations over the summer. I’ll go back in September, but it-uh, it means I can’t pay my rent.”

He’d looked up at her. She looked like she understood. Jemma had had a sad look on her face and given him a small nod. But she’d stayed silent. Fitz had felt like his heart was being torn out of his chest. 

“So, I guess I won’t be here for the summer. Hunter’s going to sublet the room. I’ll be moving out.” 

He’d hardly been able to look at her. She’d stayed quiet for a moment.

“When?” She’d asked, her voice hardly audible. 

“P-pretty soon. N-next week.” He’d stammered back.

Jemma’s face had fallen. 

“Y-you’re going back to Glasgow?” 

Fitz had just nodded. Jemma had looked at him knowingly. But she had stayed silent. It wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t going to let him stay. He should just bow out now and let her get on with it. 

“I-uh…” Fitz’s voice had shuddered.

“I guess you’ll want to see other people…” He’d trailed. 

Jemma had turned her back to him, fixing their tea, but had whipped around to stare at him. Her face had gone steely. Cold. 

“Yeah. Yeah I guess so.” She’d fired back after a moment.

He’d only heard her voice like that once before. And he preferred not to think about it. He’d done it again. Ruined this. And he couldn’t do it anymore. He had to get out of there.

The night air had stung at his lungs that evening. Or maybe it had been the sobs wracking his body once more. 

**July.**

Fitz pushed the memory out of his head. It wasn’t worth dwelling on. He sighed into the heavy darkness of his bed covers. Unbidden to him more images from last night shoved themselves to the forefront of his head. He groaned. Ms. Kitsworth. His old Physics teacher. She’d been there. In that god awful grotty little club that Milton had dragged him to. He hadn’t exactly been in a fit state to protest. 

“Leopold Fitz!” She’d shouted at him with a smile over the pounding music.

“Ms. Kitsworth! Haven’t seen you since school!” He’d bellowed back. 

“Oh my god please don’t call me that! Ophelia! Please!” 

She’d taken his hand, dragging him to some quiet corner. She sat so close to him, he was almost on his lap. He’d tried to explain what he’d been up to, how uni had been going, what his courses were like, but the alcohol coursing through his veins made it difficult to be coherent. Her hand was resting high on his leg. He didn’t even notice until he felt her lips on his neck. They moved to the corner of his mouth before he could react. This was wrong. Fitz had felt sick. From the alcohol or from Ms. Kitsworth’s hand rubbing his thigh, her lips on the seam of his, he couldn’t tell. He pushed her away, standing up quickly. He needed to go. 

“I’m-I’m going to be sick!” He’d shouted before stumbling off.

He couldn’t remember much after that. 

Fitz dozed off for another little while, slipping in and out of consciousness. He only woke up properly when his mum came in wielding a pint of water and a plate of toast. She was too good to him. Lorna didn’t know exactly what had happened between Fitz and Jemma. Fitz hadn’t wanted to tell her. Only that they’d stopped seeing each other. Fitz was grateful that she hadn’t brought it up. 

Fitz didn’t mind living at home again. Not really. He knew his mum was fairly liberal with him, in comparison to most of his pals mums. They’d always gotten on well, the two of them. Coming back for the summer, it was just a case of falling into their old routine. Fitz had wangled his way back into one of his old jobs for the summer, taking every bit of overtime they could offer him. He helped with the chores. Fitz groaned as he remembered that he’d offered to go and get the shopping today. They’d nothing in for the tea, so he’d have to go. He’d wait another couple of hours, just to make sure the alcohol was out of his system completely. 

He didn’t mind doing the shopping. Mum always sent him off with a list and a budget. He’d gotten good at budgeting. He’d been doing it for long enough. Even in his still somewhat hungover state, he managed to find everything fine. He was just at the checkout when suddenly he looked up. The hairs on the back of his arms seemed to stand on end. His eyes automatically locked onto a pair of familiar brown eyes. Jemma. He dropped the can of beans he was holding. Fitz tried to wrench his eyes away from hers, but found he couldn’t. And then she was there. Next to him. 

“Hi.” She said quietly. 

“H-hi.” Fitz replied. 

Fitz glanced down. She didn’t have much in her basket. He opened his mouth to speak again, but he was interrupted by a grumble of thunder. 

“D-did you walk?” He sputtered out, as his brain registered the heavy pats of rain on the roof above him.

Fitz looked at Jemma again. She only had a small bag with her. No umbrella. 

“What?” Jemma furrowed her brow at him. 

Confusion. 

“I-it’s raining.” Fitz sputtered.

He felt like an idiot. 

“Do you need a lift?” He clarified, trying to ease the furrowed look from her face.

It worked. Jemma’s face relaxed slightly. 

“I-I got the bus. But a lift would be nice. Thank you.” 

She gave him a small smile. Fitz’s stomach seemed to turn over. They checked out their respective groceries in silence, before bolting out to Fitz’s car. The journey to Jemma’s house was deadly silent. Not even the radio cut through the atmosphere. It was a Friday. Jemma’s mum would still be at work, Fitz remembered. He could pull all the way up to the house. Jemma didn’t bolt out of the car as soon as he stopped. This surprised him.

“Y-you didn’t tell me you were in town.” Fitz stumbled out. 

It sounded stupid. Jemma just nodded.

“I thought, I thought you’d maybe text…” He trailed off. 

His eyes flitted over to her. She was staring determinedly at her lap. 

“I’m just back for the weekend. It’s the anniversary of my father's death. Mum never really handles it well.” Jemma explained. 

“Shit. I’m sorry.” 

Jemma finally looked up at him. She gave him a small sad smile.

“Don’t be.” 

They sat in silence for another minute.

“I hear you’re with Jamie now.” Fitz said, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice.

He’d seen it on facebook. Jamie had changed his relationship status a few weeks ago. Smug prick. But Fitz knew he’d always liked Jemma. He’d just never imagined that she’d felt the same way. 

“He always liked you.” 

Jemma didn’t reply. She turned away from him again, her eyes focused on some far off point. 

“What about you? Are you seeing anyone?” Jemma asked. 

Fitz shook his head, and fought back a small laugh. When would he have the time? He worked almost every hour he could at that shitty garage. 

“No. Not at the moment.” He replied, staring at his hands. 

“Embracing the single lifestyle?” 

The comment was jovial, but her tone was far from it. It made Fitz want to shiver.

“Yup. You know me.” 

“I did once.” 

Jemma’s voice was still hard. Not that Fitz blamed her. Their eyes came together again and seemed to speak silently to one another. Jemma was the one to pull away, moving to undo her seatbelt. This seemed to bring Fitz to some kind of awareness.

“L-look, if you don’t want to be friends, that’s fine. J-just let me know and I promise I’ll leave you alone from now on.” He blurted. 

Jemma didn’t even hesitate.

“Of course I want to be friends Fitz.” 

Her voice was gentle. A small glow seemed to fill Fitz’s chest. Happy. That made him happy. The feeling had become unfamiliar. 

“Thank you.”

It seemed the right thing to say. 

“Do you want to come in?” Jemma offered.

Her voice was stronger now. Maybe she liked knowing where they stood too. Fitz knew she was just offering to be polite. 

“Nah. I-I’ve ice cream in the back, and I’d promised Mum I’d be home for dinner… Sorry.” 

“That’s okay.”

She gave him a small smile.

“Thanks for the lift.” 

Before Fitz could open his mouth in reply, Jemma had pulled open the car door and bolted out. Fitz watched as she ran through the rain, watched until she made it safely to the cover of the awning over the front door, before he turned his keys, and started the engine again. 

**September.**

Fitz was late. He jogged lightly through the crowds of people, pulling back his sleeve to look at his watch. Shit. Thankfully, the cafe that was his destination came into view, and he slowed to a fast walk. He caught sight of her and his heart seemed to pound faster than when he was running. She was sat at a table outside, her eyes darting around. Jemma’s mouth curved into a smile when she saw him. 

“Sorry I’m late.”  “You didn’t need to run.”

They spoke simultaneously. That made Fitz smile. It put him oddly at ease. He pulled at his jacket sleeves and sat down. 

“M-my bus got caught in traffic.” 

He still felt that need to explain to her. He couldn’t justify it. It was just always there. 

“Well I got you a tea.” 

Jemma nodded to the large white mug in front of him.

“Didn’t put anything in it, so it should still be hot.” She smiled.

“Thanks.” He smiled back.

Fitz was grateful. He faffed about for a second, ripping open sugar packets and dumping their contents unceremoniously into his mug. He watched as the milk swirled around for a second. The mixture of the white and the brown liquid looked almost otherworldly, until he stirred them together, a solid creamy colour taking their place. 

“Did you hear back about that scholarship yet?” Jemma asked, taking a sip from her own mug.

Fitz shook his head. Jemma had forwarded him a link to this website over the summer. Some very rich guy had up and died and left a truly obscene amount of money to the science department. Part of it was setting up scholarships. The top performing student in each scientific discipline would get the rest of their fees paid for up to five years, and free accommodation for the rest of their studies. It was almost too good to hope for. 

“You know I haven’t.” Fitz smiled. 

Jemma had applied too. Probably more for the prestige of the thing. It would look good on job applications. They’d never talked about money, but she always had it, and it never seemed to be a problem for her. Her family owned the flat she lived in. She didn’t need to work a part time job like he did. They were just, different, like that. 

“They said we wouldn’t hear for another six weeks.” Fitz continued. 

“You nervous?” Jemma asked.

Fitz let out a small laugh.

“Nervous about my entire future being either potentially very secure or very fucked? Why on earth would I be nervous about that?” He grinned.

Jemma smiled. He hadn’t seen her smile in a while. It was nice.

“How’s Jamie?” Fitz asked.

He didn’t really want to know. He was just being polite. Fitz hated Jamie. It wasn’t just that he was going out with Jemma. He was a slimy, smug git. He’d been even more smug ever since he’d started going out with her. It was like he thought he’d won or something. Which was ridiculous. Jemma wasn’t a prize. She was free to go out with whoever she liked. Fitz just didn’t know why it had to be that egotistical arsehole.

“It would be nice if you could be civil to each other.” Jemma said.

There was a slight scold underneath the apparent levity of her voice. 

“I’m civil.” Fitz grumbled.

It wasn’t the whole truth. Jemma raised her eyebrows at him.

“You could try not to intimidate him so much.” Jemma sighed. 

Fitz furrowed his brow. It wasn’t like he was some big hulking monster, able to take Jamie down in one swift punch. The mental image was amusing though.

“Are you telling him no to intimidate me?” Fitz quipped back.

Jemma gave a small laugh.

“No, but from where he’s standing, you’re the incredibly intelligent guy who used to have  _ very _ regular sex with his girlfriend.”

Fitz felt his cheeks go red. Jemma never fussed about stuff like that. He could see her point though.

“Is that how you describe me to all your friends? The smart guy who screwed you on the regular?” Fitz asked.

His face seemed to burn. He wasn’t comfortable with where this conversation was headed. 

“Pretty sure we screwed each other Fitz.” 

The double meaning wasn’t lost on him. Part of him wanted the ground to swallow him whole. The other half was too curious for its own good. 

“We had mutual, equally involved kind of sex.” Jemma mused.

Fitz felt his face burn again. She did realise that they were in public? Then he remembered it was part of the reason he liked her so much. That unabashed nature. He just wished she wouldn’t be quite so loud about it. People could hear them.

“It’s different with Jamie.” She continued.

Fitz stared down at his tea. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this. But he didn’t know how to stop it. His curiosity got the better of him.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

It was hard to imagine any other kind of sex, of intimacy. Fitz’s brain took him to that long repressed night last year with Hannah. But that had been the complete opposite of what he’d had with Jemma. There had been no emotional attachment at all. It couldn’t only be one of two options, his brain reasoned. Surely there was some kind of inbetween. Jemma raised her eyebrows at him.

“Are you sure you want to hear about that?” She asked.

She was surprised. Fitz wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her like this before. He nodded, in spite of himself. Jemma huffed out a sigh, and leaned back into her chair.

“He’s into pain. Turns out he’s a bit of a sadist.” 

Fitz couldn’t help the laugh that fell out of his mouth. It made perfect sense. Of course that git was as controlling in his personal life as he was in every other aspect of his life. But then Fitz looked up and saw Jemma had turned red. He stopped laughing immediately. 

“I-I’m sorry. It just, it makes sense. We can talk about something else if you want?” Fitz rushed out. 

Jemma seemed to take a second. To compose herself, Fitz thought. 

“It’s alright.” She said.

But her voice was quiet. Devoid of its usual confidence. Fitz hated it. 

“It sounds fucking horrible, Jemma.” Fitz said, trying to fill the silence. 

It was true. He couldn’t think of many other things that would be worse. To him at least, sex was about intimacy, about love. Pain had no part in that for him. But maybe it was different for her. 

“It’s not!” Jemma quickly protested back at him. 

“It’s just different.” 

Fitz let out a long sigh. 

“Y-you never mentioned it when we wer-...” Fitz started.

“It was different with you Fitz. Things were different.” Jemma interjected. 

Fitz wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. He couldn’t tell. Her face had changed to that immovable expression of hers, the one he couldn’t read. He wasn’t sure he was supposed to. 

“It was just real.” 

Jemma’s voice unexpectedly filled the quiet that had fallen between them. Her voice was quiet again. 

“W-with Jamie, I don’t know…” She sighed. 

“It feels like I’m playing a part. I just pretend to feel how I’m supposed to.”   
  


She wasn’t looking at him now. Fitz felt his stomach drop. He wished she’d stop. 

“With you I actually  _ felt  _ all those things. I’d have done anything you wanted me too.”

Her voice was small. Fitz felt ill. But he knew she was telling the truth. He just knew. It took a while, she fidgeted with her jacket, played with her hands, but finally she brought her eyes up to meet his again. 

“Anyway, how are you?” She asked.

  
  


His relationship with Jemma retained a kind of strained quality to it, even after that afternoon. Uni ramped up again, and he didn’t have a lot of spare time on his hands. Fitz was back working at the restaurant, taking any shifts that he could. He didn’t want to be in the same situation at the end of this year. He didn’t want to rely on the possibility of that scholarship. 

**December.**

It was almost six weeks to the day from his meeting with Jemma that the email came through. He was in his room, doing some reading aimlessly on his laptop, Hunter wittering some pish about an ex-girlfriend. Fitz wasn’t really paying attention. Hunter could go on sometimes. And then the notification came up.

**New mail:** The Phillip J. Coulson Memorial Scholarship Recipients

Fitz felt his heart catch in his throat. He clicked on it immediately. He scrolled through the paragraphs of thanking everyone for their applications, and the competition was tough nonsense, before he reached the list. His heart leapt slightly when he saw that Jemma had won the Biochemistry prize. She deserved it. She was brilliant. He continued scrolling. 

**Second year Engineering:** Leopold James Fitz. 

Fitz was sure he’d stopped breathing. He just stared at the screen.

“H-hunter.” He managed to stammer.

“Wha?” Hunter asked lazily, before noticing the look on Fitz’s face. 

“I-I-I got it. I got the scholarship.” Fitz blurted, his eyes not moving from the screen.

Hunter seemed to explode. He leapt off of his bed, and tackled Fitz, knocking them both over.

“YES MATE! FUCKING YES!! YOU ABSOLUTE GIANT FUCKING NERD!!! YES! FIVE YEARS FREE TUITION AND ACCOMODATION, YOU JAMMY FUCKER!” Hunter shouted loudly. 

“IZZY, IDAHO, DROP WHATEVER YOU’RE DOING, WE’RE GOING TO CELEBRATE THE FACT THAT WE LIVE WITH THE BIGGEST NERD AT CAMBRIDGE!” He continued.

Hunter leapt off the bed and jumped through the doorway. Fitz righted himself and just stared at the screen. He couldn’t believe it. It felt like a dream. He didn’t have to work himself to exhaustion anymore. He was free. Fitz didn’t have long to contemplate this, as Hunter, despite the fact that it was barely past noon, insisted on dragging him out for drinks to celebrate. 

It must have been about eight o’clock when Fitz finally pulled himself away from the pub, determined to walk home, eat some toast and go to bed. His head spun. He was the most drunk he could ever remember being. The next half hour was a blur. His face hurt. Stung really. He could taste his own blood in his mouth. He dialled the first number he could remember. Jemma. When the taxi pulled up outside her flat, Fitz got out. He watched her run, in bare feet out towards him. Watched her face fall when she took in his bloodied face, the bright red stain on his shirt. 

“Jesus Christ Fitz.” 

It was a visceral reaction. Through the haze of drink still clouding his head he could work out that much. She ran forward and shoved some notes at the taxi driver. He’d almost forgotten about the fare. They stood and stared at one another for a moment. What a sight they must make, Fitz thought. The girl in the pretty red dress and bare feet, and the boy with a bloodied face, standing staring at each other in the middle of the road. Eventually, Jemma gestured for him to get inside.

“What happened?” She asked.

Fitz could hear voices from the kitchen. She had people round. Of course she did. That explained the dress. 

“Just this guy. Cornered me on my way home. Asked for my wallet. I said no, he hit me in the face and took it anyway. Idiot.. I’m fine. Your number was the only one I knew by heart.” Fitz managed to slur out. 

He shuffled towards Jemma, clumsily taking her hand into his own. It was so warm. 

“I’m really sorry. I’m really drunk.” 

Jemma just looked at him. 

“How drunk?” She asked softly.

“Well, Hunter dragged me out not long after the email about the sc-scholarship came out so, a w-while.” Fitz hiccuped.

“Right.” Jemma answered.

He couldn’t tell what she was feeling. It was odd. He usually always had some sort of clue. Maybe he was just too drunk. 

“D-do I still have pupils?” 

The question popped into his brain and out of his mouth in the same millisecond.

“Just about.They’re huge.” Jemma gave a small laugh.

“They always get like that when I see you.” 

Any filter that Fitz once possessed seemed to have left him. Words that never would have left his thoughts were coming tumbling out of his mouth without any hesitation. It was true though. Jemma seemed to falter at his words. She looked down. 

“You must be drunk.”   
  


The stupid smile that Fitz was suddenly aware was on his face, fell. 

“What d’you mean?” He asked. 

“Jamie’s in the kitchen.” Jemma whispered.

And then Fitz remembered. Everything. It all suddenly flooded the forefront of his mind. Right. 

“Oh.” Fitz said, dropping her hand and backing away. 

“Maybe I’ll just go back out and get punched in the face again. Honestly wasn’t really that bad.” Fitz laughed.

It hurt a lot less than he expected it to really. He would later realise that it was the alcohol dulling his senses, but for now, the twist in his gut at the idea of meeting with Jamie, was a lot more painful than his burst nose and lip. 

“Fitz.” Jemma’s voice sounded, and he stopped.

“Come on.” She jerked her head.

Fitz followed her through to the kitchen. Bobbi and Daisy both gasped at the sight of him, but Jamie said nothing. He seemed to go pale. Jemma quickly explained what happened.

“Fucking lowlife scum.” Jamie muttered.

“What?” Fitz asked, unsure if he heard him right.

“Fucking lowlife scum.” Jamie repeated.

“Well that’s quite the welcome Jamie, thank you. Can’t all be the spawn of billionaires can we?” Fitz smiled. 

In the corner, Daisy covered up a snort of laughter. Jamie rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, well I was talking about the dickhead who robbed you to buy drugs, obviously.” Jamie drawled. 

It would be nice to hit him in the face, Fitz mused.

“Drugs?” Fitz asked without thinking.

“Well he’s hardly using your cash to buy loaves of bread for his kids is he? Be up his nose or in a needle or something by now.” Jamie continued in his sickening drone.

It was Fitz’s turn to roll his eyes. What an utter and complete wanker. 

“It looks pretty bad Fitz. Are you alright?” Bobbi asked, edging closer towards him.

She sounded genuinely concerned. It was nice. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Fitz smiled at her. 

He felt a twinge of pain as he moved his mouth.

“Should we get out of your way or………” Daisy’s voice sounded from the corner.

“Daisy!” Bobbi’s voice quickly scolded.

“He said he was fine!” Daisy protested.

“It’s fine really. Go.” Jemma assured the rest of them. 

Fitz watched these back and forths quietly.

“They stop letting in at twelve though Jemma.” Jamie interjected.

“I’m quite tired anyway. I’ll call you tomorrow?” Jemma offered.

She was wearing that look that meant you weren’t to argue. Jamie knew it too. He just leaned down and gave her a kiss before shuffling over to the door with the rest of the group. Jamie was the last to leave. Fitz felt the urge to punch him rise in himself again. He’d probably deserve it.

“You could have a different boyfriend you know.” Fitz said, the words just falling out of his mouth.

Jemma sighed. She turned back to the kettle behind her. Fitz wasn’t even aware that she’d put it on.

“I mean guys are always falling in love with you. From what I hear at least.” Fitz continued. 

It was true. He’d already heard too many comments about ‘That hot girl Jemma Simmons on the BioChem course.’. They made him clench his fists. He knew he had no right to feel like that. Especially not now. 

“Stop that.” Jemma replied quickly.

“Tea?” She asked.

Fitz ignored her.

“People either love you or hate you.” He mused.

Jemma stopped, staring at him. 

“You don’t hate me?” 

It almost wasn’t a question. 

“N-no. Of course not Jemma.” Fitz replied.

“I’m-I’m immune to you.” 

His thoughts continued to spill out of his mouth without thinking.

“Cause I knew you before. Before all this.” Fitz said, gesturing widely.

Jemma turned back to making tea.

“When I was ugly and pathetic you mean?” 

Fitz quickly shook his head.

“No. You were never that, Jemma. Never ugly or pathetic. Never.” Fitz assured.

She still didn’t look at him.

“I’d rather you go out with literally anyone else Jemma. I’d rather the boy that mugged me was your boyfriend.” Fitz spluttered.

“Why do you care?” Jemma asked, a fierceness about her voice. 

She was looking at him again. He wasn’t sure he wanted her to look at him like that. 

“Do you love him?” 

Again, it came out without him thinking about it.

“We don’t talk about that kind of thing, do we?” Jemma said quietly after a moment.

Fitz moved his head from side to side. It felt like it was floating. Historically no. But they had that afternoon. Or she had at least. 

“I thought that was off limits for us.” She continued. 

“A-alright, okay.” Fitz agreed.

He was probably too drunk to do it any kind of justice anyway. He should tell her. 

“J-jemma, I know I should have mentioned this before, but I’m-I’m uh, I’m seeing someone.” He stuttered out.

That made her look at him.

“B-been seeing her for a few months now. Just about since Uni started.” Fitz continued.

“I-I know I should have told you, but I uh, I feel like we’ve hardly seen each other. Barely spent any time together anddd… So yeah. H-her name’s Sarah, Sarah Stewart. She’s studying Medicine. I don’t know if you’ve maybe come across her...” Fitz trailed off.

Jemma just shook her head. Sad. She looked sad. Fitz couldn’t account for it. He was too drunk. He’d met Sarah on dodgey a night out with Hunter. She was lovely. He liked her a lot. She was kind, good to him. He tried to do the same back. Jemma turned back to the two mugs she’d set out, and hung her head. Fitz wished he could read her mind. God, it would help right now.

“Why were you trying to get me to break up with Jamie?” 

Fitz was taken aback. That wasn’t the answer he’d been anticipating. 

“No. I wasn’t.” 

He wasn’t sure how much truth there was in his response. It was partly true. 

“I just want you to be happy. I don’t think he makes you happy.” 

That was true. All of it. Some days he thought it was all he ever wanted. For Jemma to be happy. 

“Because you’re such a good friend Fitz.” Jemma spat back.

“Yeah. I-I-I mean I’m trying, I mean I think…” Fitz trailed off.

His eyes met hers. She looked desperately sad. It was unbearable. An image suddenly flooded the forefront of Fitz’s mind and he remembered the last time he’d been here. The last time he’d been alone with Jemma in this kitchen. He suddenly felt a bit woozy. Without warning, without him even anticipating it, Jemma burst into tears.

“Jesus, Jemma I’m sorry, I-I know I should have mentioned it before I just-” Fitz started, rushing towards her. 

Jemma covered her mouth and turned away from him. Fitz felt a stab in his stomach. 

“I don’t want to talk to you Fitz. Just go. Please, just go.” Jemma interjected.

Fitz reached out for her, but she pulled away from him. It felt painful. More painful that his burst face.

“Please, can you just go?” Jemma sobbed.

Fitz backed away. 

“Yeah.” 

Fitz started towards the door, before faltering. She was still sobbing. But he had no way to get home. 

“Jemma, I’m really sorry to ask but, I-uh, I can’t get home.” Fitz stammered.

Jemma seemed to stop.

“Oh god, sorry. I forgot that you’d been beaten up somehow. I- yeah, hang on.” She said, not looking at him. 

She wiped at her eyes, before walking over to the kitchen table. Fitz watched as she pulled her purse out of her bag, and plucked some notes out. 

“Here.” She said quietly, placing the bundle of notes in his hand. 

If Fitz had been paying attention he would have noticed that it was far too much for a taxi home. He’d realise in the morning. 

“I-I I uh, I don’t really know what happened with us in the summer.” 

It slipped out without him even thinking again. He didn’t seem to be able to help it now. Jemma’s eye’s found his again. They were still watery and full. Red rimmed. 

“W-when I had to go home. I-I had kinda hoped I’d be able to stay here. That you maybe would have let me.” Fitz stammered quietly.

Jemma stared at him. 

“W-what?” 

Her voice broke as she spoke. Her hand went to her throat. A tear slid down her cheek.

“So uhm, yeah. I don’t uh, I don’t really know what happened between us to be honest.” 

Fitz watched her face working, digesting what he’d just said. Her brows knit together. She didn’t understand. 

“You said you wanted to see other people.” Jemma said softly.

Fitz shook his head. That wasn’t what he’d meant.

“I thought you were breaking up with me.” She continued. 

Fitz looked at the floor. He felt ashamed of himself. 

“Y-you never said anything about wanting to stay here. I-I- That would have been… Always, Fitz. Obviously.” Jemma stammered out. 

Fitz felt his heart break again. She was upset. It hurt. He could feel it radiating over his body. They were quiet for another few moments. Fitz wanted to run away. For once, he let himself fall into that desire.

“I-I should go. Thanks again Jemma.” He muttered.

He couldn’t even look at her. Coward. 

His head seemed to ring in the taxi. He only realised where he’d told the taxi driver to take him once he’d arrived. He felt bad about disturbing Sarah’s night. It was only once he was sat at her kitchen table as she dabbed at his lip with some stuff from her first aid kit, that he realised he probably should have come here first. Should have called her first. For some reason, Jemma was still stuck as his first instinct. She kissed his forehead once she was finished, assuring him he did not need any stitches. She was thankfully able to reset his nose on her own. And Fitz was grateful for her. He leaned his head against the wall and let his thoughts swim about his brain. It had been a very, very long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much for reading! I'll see you next time!
> 
> Skye :)


	8. Tension.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma and Fitz meet up in Italy over the summer. Things aren’t straightforward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Specific Trigger Warnings: Unhealthy relationship, emotional abuse, domestic argument and emotional manipulation. 
> 
> Hello lovelies! I have SO been looking forward to writing this chapter ever since I decided to continue. It’s just full of a lot of very complex emotions and situations and as a writer that is always great to tackle. A lot of it was fairly out of my comfort zone but I think it is always good to push yourself and just see what you can do and I can only hope I’ve done the thing justice. I also have a fun AoS twist in this chapter which I have been sitting on for SO LONG and I’m so glad I got to work it in and I can only hope that you enjoy it as much as I do! Thanks again so much for reading and commenting and kudosing, it really does mean the world. Without your support I probably would have given up on this fic a long time ago, so thank you. Anyway I will let you get to the reading.

This had been the best summer Fitz could ever remember having. He and Hunter had spent the last month travelling around Europe. Even after winning that scholarship, he’d kept his crappy restaurant job, at Hunter’s suggestion. It was good to work, and without it, he wouldn’t have been able to fund this trip. It was travelling around on trains and staying in hostels, working on a shoestring budget, but museums were mostly free, and the scenery was too. Such a difference from the misery of last summer. It felt odd, having the world at his fingertips like this. 

They were in Italy now. Jemma’s family had a place here and she’d invited them to stay. She and Jamie and Bobbi had spent most of the summer out here. He had had better contact with Jemma over the last few months. Since the announcement of the scholarship, things seemed oddly better. She’d met Hunter and they got on well. She’d also met Sarah. Fitz wasn’t sure that they’d ever be best friends but, they got on. It was just nice to be friends with her again. 

Things with Sarah were going well. With her he felt normal. Like he belonged somehow. Nothing felt awkward with her. Holding her hand, putting his arm around her, kissing her, even with other people around, it felt okay. Things were less intense with her. This was what a relationship was supposed to feel like, Fitz presumed. He missed her. He tried to call or Skype when he could, but the internet he managed to find was always somewhat fickle. Fitz felt happy with Sarah. He enjoyed feeling like a normal person. Sarah was a good person, and he enjoyed the thought that maybe, with her, he was a good person too. 

The taxi pulled up at the end of a large hill. He could see across the entire valley. It was late afternoon and the edges of the sky were barely tinged with orange. It was beautiful. 

“What a view!” Hunter’s voice floated out from some far off distant place.

Fitz just nodded. They both just stood for a moment, gazing out over the Italian countryside. Fitz smiled, and turned around. The house should be just at the top of the hill. He fixed his large backpack on his shoulders and walked towards Hunter.

“Race you to the top!” He said, swatting Hunter lightly on the chest, before bolting towards the hill. 

He heard Hunter whinging loudly behind him as he ran. 

“Oh that is so not fair!” 

Fitz laughed. He stopped when he found himself on a long driveway. Looking left and right, his eyes caught it. It looked like a painting. A large stone villa, surrounded by lush greenery. Hunter finally caught up, his eyes following Fitz.

“Jesus. Do you think we’ll get our own rooms?” He joked.

They’d been spending all of their time in hostels, sleeping in bunk beds, sharing bathrooms. This was otherworldly compared to that. They wandered towards the large house, their eyes wide. It was quiet. There didn’t seem to be anyone around. A voice sounded from above.

“Fitz!” 

He looked up and saw Bobbi hanging out an upstairs window. He smiled. He’d come to like Bobbi. She still scared him a bit, especially now she’d dyed her hair dark, but she’d always been kind to him. He heard a thud next to him. He turned to see Hunter, his backpack at his feet, gaping up at Bobbi.

“B-Bobbi?!” He stuttered.

Bobbi just rolled her eyes. 

“Hey Hunter!” She called, a sarcastic tone in her voice. 

Fitz’s eyes flit from Bobbi to Hunter again. They knew each other. But they’d never met. Bobbi moved, hopefully to let them in the house, and Fitz rounded on Hunter. He looked like someone had just kicked his favourite puppy. 

“Wha-” Fitz started.

“You remember me telling you about my ex-girlfriend?” Hunter said swiftly, his eyes not moving from the window. 

“Yeah. The one you called a She-Demon?” Fitz asked.

Suddenly it clicked. Oh.  _ Oh.  _ Fitz barely had time to register this, when the front door opened, revealing Bobbi to them. She looked Hunter up and down, and gave a small smile.

“Nice shirt.” She smiled.

It was in fact, not a nice shirt. It was rank, he’d been wearing it for almost three days straight and Hunter had refused to wash it because he didn’t trust the European laundromats not to ruin it. 

“Really?! ‘Nice shirt.’ that’s what you’re leading with?” Hunter stuttered. 

Fitz could only watch. 

“W-what have you done to your hair?!” Hunter exclaimed. 

“Dyed it.” Bobbi replied plainly. 

“I-I prefer you blonde.” Hunter managed to spit out. 

“Well I didn’t do it for you. Two seconds in and there’s already a tone.” Bobbi sighed.

“This isn’t a tone!” Hunter protested. 

“This is just my speaking voice when I’m upset with an unreasonable person!” 

Fitz was beginning to feel quite uncomfortable now. 

“S-sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if you could maybe let us in?” Fitz stammered out, carefully choosing his moment to interject. 

Both Bobbi and Hunter looked at him as though they had forgotten he was even there. Bobbi let out a frustrated sigh.

“Of course Fitz. Jemma should just be out back.” She said kindly.

She pushed open the front door and stood to one side, letting him past. Fitz nodded at her, before dashing into the house. The sounds of raised voices tailed him in. The house was huge, but it wasn’t hard to find his way through it. He went through a large kitchen, out through some French doors, past a pool and down some steps before he saw her. Her hair had lightened somewhat. Fitz figured the sun had something to do with that. She was hanging out washing. It all looked very domestic. It made Fitz smile.

“It’s a nice place.” He said with a small smile.

Jemma whipped around. Her lips curled up at the sight of him, her eyes crinkled in that familiar way. She was happy to see him. 

“It’s very quiet.” She said.

Fitz turned, and the raised voices of Hunter and Bobbi floated over them.

“Well it was.” He grinned.

“Bobbi is Hunter’s She Demon ex that I told you about.” Fitz smiled.

Jemma’s face seemed to fall.

“Oh no.” 

Fitz just grinned.

“Don’t worry. If what Hunter had told me was right, they’ll have jumped each other's bones by tomorrow morning at the latest.” 

Jemma smiled, and let out a small laugh.

“Let's hope. Hello by the way.” 

“Hi.” Fitz smiled. 

His chest warmed, like it always did when he saw her. It was a sensation unique only to her. He heard steps behind him, and turned to see Hunter. He just grimaced at him. His face lit up at the sight of Jemma however. 

“Jemma! Lovely to see  _ you _ !” He exclaimed with rather obvious emphasis. 

“Quite the place you have here!”

“Hi Hunter! Nice to see you too!” Jemma smiled.

“This place is lovely Jemma, really!” Hunter continued to gush.

Fitz could feel him working towards a sarcastic comment. It was like a sixth sense one gained around Hunter. 

“How are you both? You must be tired after your journey.” Jemma asked kindly.

“Oh not at all! We slept the whole way here!” Hunter exclaimed, wrapping himself round one of the wooden posts that held up the clothes line. 

Fitz let out a small laugh.

“ _ Hunter  _ slept the whole way.” Fitz corrected with a smile.

Jemma just laughed knowingly. 

“Well we were just about to head in and make dinner. I can show you where you’re sleeping and then you can maybe have a nap, or a walk or a  _ shower.”  _

Jemma said the last word pointedly and Fitz grinned. He knew they must stink. A month of staying in hostels with terrible bathrooms and washing your clothes every week in a crappy laundromat, didn’t exactly leave them both smelling clean and fresh. 

“Ah yes, sorry about that.” Fitz smiled, plucking at the front of his t-shirt and giving it a quick whiff. 

Jemma just beamed at him. 

It was so nice to take a proper shower, Fitz thought as the spray gushed over his head. The lukewarm water was a nice relief from the sweltering heat of the day. For the first time in a month, he felt properly clean. It was as if he’d forgotten what it felt like. Refreshing. He said he’d skype Sarah when they arrived. Jemma would have a wifi code or something, he thought, as he towelled his hair dry. He dressed and padded downstairs. Voices came from the kitchen. He didn’t recognise the tone until he was standing in the doorway. Jemma was chopping fruit whilst Jamie lolled against the stove, a beer bottle swinging lazily in his hand. You could cut the tension with a knife. They’d been arguing. It hadn’t taken a genius to work that one out. Something curled in Fitz’s stomach. He wasn’t sure what it was. But he knew how terrible a person he would be if it was anything near glee. Jamie’s face curdled into a slimy smile as his eyes fell on him. 

“Fitz! You made it.” He grinned falsely. 

Fitz just nodded. He would try to be civil.

“You alright Jamie?” 

He honestly couldn’t care less.

“Yeah, not bad thanks.” Jamie grinned back. 

God his face was so punchable.

“Can I get you a drink Fitz?” Jemma asked.

Her voice was high and false. Fitz hated it.

“Y-yeah. You got any beer in?” He stammered.

Jemma nodded and headed to the next room. He heard the puckering sound of the fridge door.

“Good summer?” Jamie asked. 

“Yeah. Good. You?” Fitz replied.

He’d rather be poking his eyes out with a blunt, rusty knife than be having this conversation. They both knew that neither one really cared. They were just going through the pleasantries. For Jemma’s sake really.

“Yeah, it was alright thanks.” Jamie smiled oilily back.

Pretentious wanker. Jemma returned, thank god, and passed him a cool bottle of beer. 

“Thanks.” Fitz smiled.

“J-Jemma is there a wifi code I could grab? He asked quickly.

“Yeah, of course. It’s on the router in the hall.” She smiled.

“It’s uh, not the best though, I should warn you. Did you want to make a call or…” Jemma trailed.

She knew. Of course she did. It was times like this that made Fitz positive she could read his mind. 

“Uh, y-yeah, Sarah, I uh, I promised I’d call when we arrived.” He stammered.

He didn’t feel comfortable really, talking about Sarah with Jemma. It was as if they were two different worlds that shouldn’t ever meet. 

“I don’t think you’ll get Skype working, but the phone signal is good outside, just up by the pool.” Jemma said kindly. 

“T-thanks. Do you want any help with dinner or....” 

Fitz’s eyes fell to the abandoned bowl of what he now saw to be figs by Jemma’s hand. She just smiled.

“No, it’s fine. Go make your call.” 

And she meant it. Fitz just nodded at her, before heading out of the french doors. 

It was nice to hear Sarah’s voice. It had been a few days since he’d called. He should probably be feeling a little more guilty about that than he did. But it didn’t matter now. It was good to have her voice in his ear. 

“Is it nice?” She asked.

“Yeah. Yeah it’s beautiful.” Fitz replied.

He toyed at a stone with his shoe. It was the truth.

“Really? Has she got a mansion in every country?” Sarah joked.

Fitz knew she didn’t mean to be mean. She’d come from a background more similar to his. Sometimes, Fitz thought she looked down on Jemma, because she had money. Fitz somehow felt the urge to defend Jemma.

“I mean, I wouldn’t call it a mansion per say, but it’s definitely better than hostels.” Fitz joked, trying to change the subject. 

“What’s the plan then? You going to go out in the local village or something?” Sarah asked.

“Nah. I think we’ll just have dinner here.” Fitz sighed.

He looked down at the water in the pool. He saw himself reflected in it. Distorted. 

“What are you having?” 

“I uh- I don’t actually know. I saw Jemma with a bowl of figs so, something to do with that I suppose.” Fitz smiled. 

Sarah gave a small laugh.

“Figs! Of course. Of course she’s serving you figs in her Italian mansion.”

Again, Fitz knew she didn’t mean it like that. 

“Well, I hope you have fun. I miss you.” Sarah’s voice sounded after a short silence. 

“I miss you too Sarah.” He replied.

And he meant it. 

When he went back inside, he found Jemma sat at the kitchen table, alone, halving strawberries. She smiled at the sight of him. 

“How was Sarah?” She asked, her eyes focused back on her strawberries.

Fitz wasn’t sure if she was just asking to be polite or if she actually wanted to know. He suspected the former. 

“Yeah, she’s good. She says hi.” 

“Oh, well, tell her I say hi back.” 

Jemma looked up at him then. Fitz noticed that her face was tinged with red. He couldn’t tell if it was from the sun or something else. Both, perhaps.

“An-and Jamie?” Fitz asked, trying to be polite. 

“What about him?” Jemma asked quietly, raising her eyebrows slightly.

Fitz gave her a small smile.

“He’s sleeping.” She explained.

“You sure you don’t want a hand?” Fitz inquired, nodding at her pile of strawberries. 

“No, I’m fine. I’ve only a couple left. I was going to bike down to the shop for some bits and bobs. You could come if you like?” She offered.

Fitz grinned. That sounded good.

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great. I-is there a bike I can borrow?” 

“You can use Jamie’s. I’m sure he won’t mind.” Jemma sighed. 

Fitz thought privately that he probably would very much mind, but he didn’t want to argue. 

Cycling into town with Jemma was the most fun he’d had in ages. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed like this. Jemma shouted at him when took both hands off the handle bars, balancing himself carefully as he rode along. 

“It’s just physics!” He shouted.

There was a laugh in his voice. He knew that hadn’t happened in a while.

“Fitz you’ll fall!” Jemma laughed.

Fitz laughed too, a hearty laugh, deep from his stomach. He felt light. He knew he wouldn’t fall. 

The shop was quaint. A jolly Italian woman served them at the till. She and Jemma spoke in animated Italian. The woman looked at him and smiled. Fitz had no idea what she was saying, but Jemma laughed in return as Fitz stuffed packets of fresh pasta into their little fabric bags. His Italian stretched only to the niceties, please and thank you, and where is the bathroom, numbers. The basics. It had fared him well so far. She smiled at him as they left and he returned it, fumbling out a thank you as he went. As they left Jemma turned to him and smiled as she adjusted the tote bag now on her shoulder.

“Ice cream?” She asked with a grin. 

Fitz felt his mouth curl into a smile again. He nodded.

They ended up in the town square, the piazza, Fitz reminded himself. The sky was streaked with more orange now, but somehow the sun still beat down on them as it threatened its descent into the horizon. The cool chocolate ice cream was a relief really. Fitz scarfed his down quickly, but Jemma took her time with hers. The view was phenomenal. The streaked orange sky acted as a backdrop to the rest of the town, perched on the hills and valleys before him. It was dreamlike. 

“I feel like everything’s different now. Since the scholarship.” Fitz mused, leaning back and looking at Jemma, still eating her ice cream, gelato, with intent. 

Jemma looked at him curiously as she took a bite out of her cone.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“All this…” 

Fitz gave a vague gesture around them. Jemma’s eyes followed his hand. 

"It’s real. You know, foreign cities are real. F-famous artworks, the remnants of the Berlin Wall. I can see for myself now, that all that stuff actually happened. S’not just something someone wrote in a book. Eating ice cream in little Italian piazzas with you. It’s real.” He continued.

Jemma grinned at him. Fitz considered her for a moment. His eyes followed the skyline across, settling on the spire of some far off church. 

“It’s money though, isn’t it?” He said quietly after a moment. 

“The substance that makes the world real.” 

Jemma brought her attention back up to him, lowering her hand. 

“Yeah.” 

Her voice was small, but not in a way Fitz recognised. This wasn’t familiar to him. 

“So corrupt.” He mused.

A thought popped into his head that made him smile.

“But also, very sexy.” He grinned.

He heard the musical tinkling that was Jemma’s laugh. Even now, all these years later, it was one of his favourite sounds. It was so easy to speak to her. 

“I feel like this scholarship has made literally anything possible.” 

“I’m happy for you.” 

And she meant it. Fitz would just tell. Her eyes were somehow both soft and sincere. 

“I’m happy for you too.” 

It was true. She deserved it as well. 

“You deserve it more.” She said plainly.

“B-because of the financial stuff?” He asked.

This was new territory for them. This kind of topic had been, unspokenly, off limits, before. Jemma looked at him fixedly. It was a gentle kind of intensity that they had always seemed to share. That extended to this now, Fitz supposed. 

“Well, yes. I actually meant that you’re a better student.” Jemma admitted.

Fitz grinned. He knew she wouldn’t admit that in front of anyone else. 

“You know, I don’t really think about it that much. The financial stuff.” 

The way she spoke, Fitz wondered if she was just realising this for the first time. What a luxury. He couldn’t remember not thinking about it. Not asking for certain toys for his birthday because he knew his mum couldn’t afford them. Always putting money aside for her and the house, from when he got his very first job at sixteen. That concern, that worry, had always been present in his life. He wasn’t sure he knew who he was without it now. Jemma paused. Fitz found his church spire in the distance again. He felt her eyes on him. 

“I’m sorry. That was such an ignorant thing to say. Fitz…” 

“It’s okay.” He interrupted, his eyes finding hers again.

“I should think about it more.”

Fitz could only nod. 

“I-I am conscious of the fact that we only really got to know each other because your mother works for my family.” Jemma continued.

Fitz felt his stomach twist. He wasn’t sure he liked this conversation. He’d always been taught that it was rude to talk about money. But then again, he was the one who had brought it up. 

“I also don’t think that my mother is a good employer. I don’t think she pays Lorna very well.” 

Jemma’s voice was small again, but he recognised it this time. Shame. But for the first time, Fitz didn’t feel guilty about it. He shook his head.

“Nah, she pays her fuck all.” He concurred. 

Jemma went silent again. Fitz watched as she spun the remainder of her ice cream cone through her fingers. It was true. There was a reason that for most of Fitz’s life, his mother had worked two jobs, three, at one point, right after his father left and they were struggling. Lorna worked herself to the bone for them, for him, and Fitz would never forget that. 

“Why hasn’t this come up before?” Jemma asked, her voice holding some amount of urgency in it. 

Fitz just shrugged. That was a road, a line of thought he didn’t particularly want to go down. He got the terrible feeling that madness, resentment and a lot of pain lay at the end. 

“I think it’s utterly fair if you resent me Fitz.” 

Jemma’s voice grew stronger again. 

“I don’t resent you Jemma. Why would I?” 

Fitz only realised how loaded the question was after he’d said it.

“I-I just don’t think I’m processing the change that well.” He admitted.

Jemma considered him for a moment, chewing on the end of her ice cream cone. She popped the final piece in her mouth, before pushing herself up and onto her feet, turning to look at him.

“I think you just need to figure out what  _ you  _ think is good and right in the world.” She mused, offering him her hand. 

Fitz took it gratefully, pulling himself off the ground to stand next to her.

“And if you think that people should be able to go to university and get engineering degrees and go to Europe and visit museums, then, I don’t think you should feel guilty for doing it yourself. Because you have the right to Fitz.” Jemma finished, as they wandered back over to where they’d chained up their bikes. 

Fitz let out a small laugh. 

“That’s easy for you to say. You don’t feel guilty about anything.” 

Jemma just looked at him and for a second, Fitz wondered if he’d gotten it wrong. But he felt guilty about just about everything he did. Jemma wasn’t like that. At least to his knowledge.

“Is that what you think?” Jemma asked with a small laugh. 

They reached the bikes silently, and each of them began to fiddle with their respective locks. Fitz had just stuffed his chain and lock rather unceremoniously into his bag when he heard Jemma’s voice again. 

“I loved the emails you sent.”   
  


He had sent her so many emails this summer. His thoughts always seemed to come out better when he wrote them down. He’d sent her ideas for designs too. Jemma always responded with such encouragement and enthusiasm. It made something deep inside his chest feel as if it were glowing. 

“They were so good Fitz. You write rather beautifully.” Jemma smiled.

Fitz felt himself going red. It had nothing to do with the lingering heat of the day, nor the bag packed with groceries that he was now attaching to the back of the bike. 

“Thank you. It’s uh, it’s really nice to hear you say that Jemma.” 

“How are the designs going? I’d love to see them.” 

Fitz grinned.

“They’re not as good as the emails.” He teased.

Jemma smiled back. 

It was peaceful cycling back. It was mostly uphill, so they didn’t have time to talk much. Jamie was lingering by the gate when they got back. The sight of him made Fitz’s stomach turn. He just took his bag into the house and left Jamie and Jemma to it. His eyes fell on two figures as he passed the living room. Bobbi was sat on Hunter’s lap, and it looked as if they were devouring each other's faces. Fitz let out a small chuckle and rolled his eyes. That hadn’t taken very long at all. Looked as if he would be getting their room to himself tonight after all. 

They ate dinner outside. The sky looked as if it was one spark away from catching alight now. It created a soft, almost romantic ambiance that was so jarringly different to the mood at the table. Jamie was sat at the head of the table, lording it over them. Fitz tried to actively not make eye contact with him as he shoved forkfuls of pasta into his mouth. Jemma was sat across from him, whilst Hunter sat next to him, making increasingly sickening googly eyes at Bobbi, who to Fitz’s equal, if not greater repulsion, was returning them. Jemma was just fixing herself in her seat, after going into the house to grab a bottle of prosecco. The good stuff, to celebrate their arrival, she’d said. Hunter was now opening the bottle with vigour, whilst Bobbi handed out glasses at each place. They weren’t like the champagne glasses Fitz had seen before, not like the ones they had at work. They looked like something out of a period film. Fitz could imagine some actress in a black and white film sipping from one of them as the police told her her husband had just been found dead. Hunter popped the cork and they all cheered and gave him a round of applause. Fitz had to stop himself jovially rolling his eyes, knowing how much Hunter would be enjoying the attention. From the corner of his eye Fitz saw Jamie rolling the stem of his glass between his fingers, inspecting it. 

“Where are the champagne glasses?” Jamie asked, a rather demanding tone dominating his voice.

Bobbi just smiled at him.

“These  _ are  _ champagne glasses.” Bobbi explained with a smile, as she poured into Jemma’s glass. 

“No, I meant the tall ones.” Jamie sneered.

Everything went a bit too quiet now for Fitz’s taste. He took a sip from his own glass, feeling the bubbles fizzing against his tongue. It wasn’t enough to distract him though. 

“You mean flutes? These are coupes.” Bobbi said calmly. 

Fitz wondered at her. He probably would have thrown the glass at him by now. Jamie pulled a face. Fitz couldn’t tell if he thought he was being subtle or not. The last time he’d seen an expression like that, it was when his two year old cousin had been about to throw a fit. It didn’t bode well. 

“What’s the matter?” Jemma asked him. 

Fitz took another sip from his glass. 

“I’m just saying these aren’t for champagne.” Jamie said, a high, false laugh in his voice. 

“You are such a philistine.” Bobbi said dryly.

Fitz had to hide his smile. He was glad someone had said it. 

“Oh yeah, we’re going to drink champagne out of gravy boats and  _ I’m  _ the philistine.” Jamie continued, his voice containing somewhat of a whine now. 

“They’re just an older style Jamie. They were my Dad’s. There are flutes in the cupboard if you want one?” Jemma offered kindly.

Far more kindly than he deserved, Fitz thought. 

“Well I didn’t realise it was such an emotional issue for you. I am  _ terribly  _ sorry.” Jamie spat back. 

He was speaking with a kind of cruel sarcasm now. A terrible quiet fell over the table. For a moment, the only sound was of their cutlery hitting the ceramic plates, like far off windchimes. 

“This is really delicious.” Hunter said finally, with his usual graceful tact. 

Bobbi gave him a grateful smile.

“Did I underdo the pasta though? It’s not  _ too  _ al dente is it?” Bobbi asked. 

“No Bobbi, it’s lovely!” Jemma said with a small smile. 

She was either shaken, or angry. Perhaps both. Fitz knew. 

“Y-yeah, it’s great!” Fitz added.

“And this house! It’s amazing love. Did you come here when you were younger?” Hunter asked, again, tactfully turning his attention to Jemma.

She nodded.

“Y-yeah. Every summer. It’s how I learned Italian.” She confirmed.

Fitz was eternally grateful to Hunter. He wasn’t sure he could play interference like this. 

“So, where was your favourite place on your tour so far?” Jemma asked. 

“God that’s a hard question.” Hunter sighed, throwing himself back onto his chair so hard that he nearly fell backwards off it. 

Everyone laughed. Not Jamie. Hunter managed to recover everything but his dignity, straightened himself up, and continued. 

“I loved Berlin, Amsterdam…” Hunter trailed with a wink. 

“Why would you  _ want  _ to spend your summer on trains and in hostels?” Jamie asked disdainfully, as he brought his champagne glass to his lips. 

“I don’t know. Perhaps to meet new people, get a bit of culture, save some money and see the world Jamie.” 

Fitz couldn’t help but smile at the combination of drama and sarcasm that Hunter was able to pull off, almost at all times. 

“Saw Galileo's telescope in Florence a couple of days ago, that was pretty cool. Going to see the Hadron Collider in Switzerland was pretty good too.They gave you a tour and everything. Could have spent the rest of the trip there to be honest.” Fitz said quietly. 

He watched Jemma perk up with interest at his words, but she was about the only one. He saw Hunter rolling his eyes in exaggerated exasperation. 

“Practically had to drag him away from the place. Poor tour guide looked positively grateful when I finally pulled him away and he stopped asking questions and correcting him. I wish I was exaggerating.” Hunter sighed dramatically. 

Fitz watched as Jamie’s eyes flitted from himself to Hunter, in apparent disbelief. 

“A-are you serious? A  _ hadron collider _ .” Jamie stammered.

“Sounds thrilling man.” He continued, rolling his eyes, before looking back down at his plate. 

Fitz gripped his fork, and felt his blood beginning to boil. 

“Well, I got a lot out of it.” He muttered darkly back at him. 

“Did you though? Cause that’s the thing with interrailing, it’s essentially a tick box tour, where you don’t  _ really  _ get to experience what a place has to offer, cause your head’s just stuck in a fucking guide book.” Jamie droned.

If Fitz had been ready to punch him earlier, he was fully ready to act on the impulse now. What a pretentious twat. Jemma clearly wasn’t comfortable either, quickly grabbing the empty champagne bottle and heading quickly inside. Fitz didn’t blame her. 

“Unlike pissing about in your girlfriend’s Italian villa all summer, eh mate.” Hunter grinned sarcastically at Jamie. 

Jamie just glared at him. Everything was quiet again, until Jemma came out and handed Fitz a bottle of wine to open. He gave her a small smile. He wasn’t going to start anything, not whilst she was here. That wouldn’t be fair. Fitz wasn’t entirely sure it was even his place to any more. 

“Well, thank fuck for scholarships then eh?” Jamie said, raising his glass dramatically at him.

Fitz was now convinced he was trying to get a rise out of him. He wasn’t going to give him what he wanted. Hunter however, was not of the same mind as Fitz.

“What do you mean mate?” Hunter quickly replied.

“Fitz knows what I mean.” Jamie shot back. 

“And Jemma! Cheers to the both of you!” Bobbi smiled, clearly trying to change the topic.

“Jemma hardly would have been working in a garage and living with her mum now would she?” Jamie interjected.

He wasn’t about to let this go. 

“Do you want me to get fresh glasses?” Fitz asked Jemma, trying to change the topic.

Or escape. He wasn’t sure which. Maybe both. 

“This is life changing stuff for Fitz here.” Jamie continued, regardless.

Jemma shook her head at him.

“No thank you.” She said quietly.

“We can get fresh glasses can’t we?” Jamie asked, his voice still high and mighty.

“Sure. Go for it.” Jemma replied.

Her voice was hard. She was angry with him. Fitz thought back to earlier when he’d caught them arguing in the kitchen. Had it been like this all summer? Or was it just because he was here? It sounded conceited in his head, he knew that, but it was possible. Fitz watched as Jamie drained his wine glass.

“I’ll go.” Bobbi said quickly. 

Fitz didn’t blame her for wanting a rest from, from whatever it was that was happening here. 

“We should go to Venice whilst you’re here. It’s not far on the train.” Jemma said animatedly, trying to change the topic yet again. 

“Yeah, that would be great! Neither of us has ever been!” Hunter exclaimed happily.

“Shocker.” Jamie droned from the end of the table.

Fitz gripped his fork again. He wasn’t even trying to cover his rudeness now. 

“You’d love the architecture of the place Fitz. Some of the buildings and the bridges are amazing. Could stare at them all day. “ Jemma mused.

“I know it’s a cliche but…” Jamie had started, talking right over Jemma.

Fitz felt his blood boiling again. He wasn’t sure it had ever stopped. Jemma ignored him though and kept going. Bobbi appeared with new glasses, and started pouring the wine Fitz had opened. Opening that bottle had felt like a lifetime ago. He was just going to be happy when this dinner was over. 

“Why are we even bothering with Venice?” Jamie whinged, snatching his now filled wine glass from Bobbi, slopping some over the side. 

“Ah yes, sure there is that famous phrase about the place isn’t there, ‘Get to fuck Venice.’ isn’t that what everyone says?” Hunter spat back sarcastically. 

Fitz couldn’t help but be grateful for Hunter and his quick wit at times like this.

“Well, it will be heaving and not even with Italians, just Asians taking photos of everything. We’re literally just going to go and sit on a train for two hours to get art through a million people’s camera phones.” Jamie drawled. 

Fitz couldn’t help himself.

“Yeah, well god forbid you ever meet an Asian person Jamie.” 

The words seemed to come out of his mouth without thinking. He hadn’t even had that much to drink. Jamie took a long gulp of wine, staring at him. 

“Excuse me?” 

He said it in that way only entitled people say it. As if it were a capital offense for Fitz to address his clear privilege as a rich straight white man that he flaunted carelessly. A deadly quiet fell over the table. He’d made it worse. He knew he had. But he couldn’t have stayed silent any longer. 

“I’m just going to go and get dessert.” 

Jemma had hardly spoken the words before she was up and headed towards the house. Fitz covered his face with his hands. He’d made it worse. He could feel Jamie staring at him. He wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. He only looked up when Bobbi started clearing their plates. Fitz thought it perhaps was not a good idea to leave the three of them out here alone, as Bobbi headed into the house with their empty plates. Jamie may not be alive when the pair of them came back. The silence was like nothing Fitz had ever experienced. He couldn’t even look at Hunter. He knew he was on edge too. The relief he felt when he saw Jemma and Bobbi returning with fresh strawberries and bowls was like nothing else. 

“Oh you are spoiling us Jemma!” Hunter exclaimed as she placed the tureen of strawberries on the table. 

Jemma gave him a small smile, before sitting down and passing around spoons. Fitz saw Jamie examining the table. He really wanted to hit him. 

“Where’s the cream?” 

It was a simple question really, but the amount of condescension Jamie managed to fill it with was truly unreal. 

“It’s inside.” Jemma replied through gritted teeth. 

“Well, why wouldn’t you bring it out?” Jamie said, his voice grating on each and every one of Fitz’s nerves. 

Jemma stared at him for a second, before shoving herself up and storming into the house. Jamie let out a long sigh. Fitz thought he heard him mutter ‘for fucks sake’, before getting up and following Jemma. It didn’t take long before the sounds of shouts were heard from the kitchen. Fitz blindly took the bowl of strawberries that Bobbi handed him, his eyes trained on the door to the kitchen. A scream hit Fitz’s ears like a gunshot. Jemma’s scream. He didn’t remember deciding to move, but he was at the kitchen door in what felt like seconds. When Fitz got there, Jemma was yelling something at Jamie about him being drunk. They were standing at opposite ends of the kitchen. Jamie was holding a wine glass and a bottle in his hand, just staring at her. Fitz’s eyes met Jemma’s. Pleading.

“Are you okay?” 

It was a question meant for her. Jamie raised his glass at him dramatically, causing wine to slop out of the sides. Fitz grit his teeth. 

“Put that down.”

Jemma’s voice was dark, and threatening. Fitz had never heard her like this before. 

“I’m sorry what?” 

His mock innocence was the worst thing Fitz had heard.

“I said, put that glass down, please.”

Jemma’s voice shook as she spoke. Jamie tipped the bottle into his glass until it was overflowing. Fitz could see her shaking, watching the blood red wine drip carelessly onto the floor.

“You want me to put it down? Okay.” 

Jamie placed the bottle on the counter next to him, and let the full wine glass drop out of his hand. Fitz wasn’t sure what Jemma started shouting, but she ran for him. He couldn’t. He stopped her. He took her arms into his hands, and carefully walked her back, away from him. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re alright. It’s all okay Jemma.”

It was all he could seem to say. 

“You are fucking mental.” Jamie drawled.

He could hit him now. But Jemma needed him. 

“You need help, cause you are fucking deranged.” He continued.

Fitz felt Jemma surge forwards again, but he stopped her. She shouldn’t do anything she might regret. He needed to get her out of here. He somehow managed to guide her through the French doors, and out to the pool. Jamie shouted after them. He could go and absolutely fuck himself after that, Fitz thought. Jemma pulled her arm out of his hand as they reached the poolside. Fitz could hear her breath shaking still. He didn’t blame her. He was fucking angry too. He let her go ahead, giving her a moment, before gently touching her arm, and pulling her into a hug. Fitz hated feeling her tears on his neck. He hated that someone had hurt her so badly. She was still shaking. She pushed away from him after a moment, rubbing at her eyes. Fitz watched as her gaze fixed on the horizon, listened as her breath began to even out again. 

“Can I stay in your room tonight?” 

Jemma’s voice seemed to crack the silence.

“Of course.” 

Fitz didn’t have to think twice about it. 

“I’ll sleep on the floor.” Jemma said quietly.

“Nonsense. That bed’s huge. Hunter and I were going to share anyway. It’s fine Jemma.” Fitz assured. 

She nodded. Fitz wasn’t sure how long they stood there, side by side. By the time they went in, it was almost fully dark. He didn’t know where Jamie was now. Quite frankly he didn’t really care. The wine was cleaned up from the kitchen floor. He suspected Bobbi and Hunter. They were too good. And he was grateful for them. Both of them.

Jemma hadn’t wanted to go back to her room for pyjamas. Fitz didn’t blame her. But he couldn’t help but feeling slightly awkward, standing across from her in his boxers, she only in her underwear too. It felt like a weird kind of stand off. Jemma stood at one side of the bed, Fitz at the other. They both seemed to reach for the bedsheets at the same time. It felt so intensely familiar and yet so entirely alien. Fitz kept rigidly to his side of the bed, staring up at the ceiling and Jemma did the same. Every instinct in his body told him to reach for her, pull her towards him and hold her close. But he couldn’t do that, not anymore. He wasn’t sure he ever would again. They weren’t like that anymore. 

Fitz wasn’t trying to sleep. He’d never felt more awake in his life. He kept playing the evening over and over in his head, wondering what he could have done differently. The reasonable part of his brain knew it was no use, he couldn’t change it now. But this terrible, irrational part of his brain didn’t seem to know how to shut up. Fitz didn’t seem to be capable of breathing automatically anymore. Every breath was a conscious effort. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

Jemma broke the silence. Her voice was truly miniscule. Fitz furrowed his brow.

“In what way?” 

He didn’t know what she meant.

“I don’t know why I can’t make people love me.” Jemma replied after a moment.

Fitz felt his stomach sink. 

“I think there was something wrong with me when I was born.” She continued.

The words hung in the air for a moment. They reeled around Fitz’s head at a breakneck speed. Slowly, Fitz turned his head to look at her. Jemma was still gazing intently at the ceiling. He felt an ache in his chest. His arms ached for her. 

“Lots of people love you Jemma. Lots. Your family and friends love you.” 

It was the only thing he could think to say. Maybe it was what he would like to hear. Jemma didn’t move, didn’t say anything for a moment, but Fitz got the sense that somehow what he had said was wrong.

“You don’t know my family.” 

Her voice gave a small break as she spoke. Fitz’s chest ached again. He pushed himself up to look at her. He wanted to understand. If he understood, maybe he could make it better. 

“I-I know you fight with them…” Fitz trailed.

Fitz had never gotten the sense that Jemma and her family were on the very best of terms. She never really spoke about them. Her mother or her half brother. It was hard to gauge. 

“The last time I was home…” Jemma started. 

“My brother said he wished I were dead.” 

Fitz’s head spun. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, trying to take in the words. 

“W-why the hell did he say that?” 

The thought surged from his mouth without his permission. It was a stupid question. He just wanted to understand.

“I have no idea. He said, no one would miss me, because I’m entirely unloved.” 

Jemma spoke plainly, matter of factly. As if this were the truth. Fitz felt his blood boiling again. He knew Grant Ward to be an arrogant sort of man. This cruelty made an unfortunate amount of sense. It was as if he was seeing Jemma’s entire life properly for the very first time. He felt both nauseous and utterly furious. 

“D-did you not tell your mother that he said that to you?” Fitz asked.

“She was there. I think she just got up and left.” 

Every emotion in Fitz seemed to increase tenfold. Deep from the past his mother's words seemed to ring in his ears:  “She’s actually a very sensitive person.”. What had his mother seen, or heard? What had she protected him from? Why hadn’t she told him? But these were questions for another time, Fitz thought, pulling himself back to the present. 

“W-what happened? How did the argument start?” Fitz asked.

He just wanted to understand. It was the wrong thing to say. Jemma turned her head away from him.

“You think I did something to deserve it.” 

It wasn’t even a question. Fitz’s whole being seemed to wrench. 

“N-no! Of course not Jemma. Never.” Fitz quickly replied.

“Sometimes I think, I think I must deserve it. I don’t know why it would happen otherwise.”

Fitz felt physically ill now. It was everything he could do to stop himself from shaking. He felt so unspeakably sad. 

“W-why did you never tell me about any of this? Th-the whole time we were together, you never…” He trailed. 

Tears he had no right to welled up in his eyes. They weren’t for him. 

“I don’t know.” Jemma admitted.

Fitz watched as she toyed with the edge of the bedsheet with her fingers.

“I guess I didn’t want you to think… to think that I was damaged or something. I was probably afraid you wouldn’t want me anymore.” She finished. 

She was speaking in utter and absolute earnest. Fitz didn’t know what to say. Jemma turned her head to look at him. Their eyes joined in that familiar way. 

“You do think I’m damaged.” She said quietly, a deep crack in her voice.

Fitz felt something inside him break. He could only shake his head.

“No. No Jemma. Never. Never.” 

Her face seemed to register some new emotion that Fitz had never encountered before. Something between relief, and pure, unadulterated pain and sadness. He couldn’t help it anymore. He had to give in. He reached gently for her.

“Jemma come here.” He whispered.

It took no convincing. Their arms wrapped around one another, their forms connecting back together like magnets. Fitz ran his thumb over the bare skin of her back. It had been so long. He felt at peace here. Jemma shifted closer to him. She was so warm. He could smell that familiar, comforting scent of her shampoo. His lips found their way to her forehead. Her skin was soft under his lips. Fitz lingered there a moment, not wanting these precious few seconds to end. Jemma leaned into him. He couldn’t tell you whose lips grazed whose first. It was as intoxicating as it had always been. He couldn’t say it, not now. Maybe he could show it. The slide of her lips against his was a comfort, it was familiar, but also made his head spin. His hand came up to caress her face, his fingers grazing gently over her cheek. His other hand wandered further down, pulling her towards him. It was then that Jemma pushed him back.

“No. No. We shouldn’t.” She stammered, breathless. 

Fitz rolled onto his back, his mind fuzzy. She was right. Neither of them were in the right place for this. Jemma had, whatever had happened that evening with Jamie, and shit. Shit. He had Sarah. Guilt flooded his stomach. It was hot and uncomfortable. 

“I’m-I’m sorry.” 

Jemma didn’t reply. Her hand found his. She wrapped her fingers around his, squeezing it tight, before releasing it quickly and turning over onto her side, away from him. It was okay. 

Fitz had a hard time getting to sleep that night. He heard Jemma’s breathing change long before he slipped off himself. He just stared at the ceiling. So much had happened today. He knew so much more. Jemma, her world, the way she was, it made sense now. He knew. 

He probably should have slept on the train to Venice, but instead, he stared out of the window, with Hunter’s head lolling on his shoulder, letting out the occasional sleepy grunt. He’d gotten used to that by now. He spent the journey thumbing through his sketchbook and staring out at the Italian countryside. Jamie had left that morning. Jemma had seen him off. Fitz had watched him walk down the road, dragging his suitcase behind him. If he never saw him again, it would be too soon. 

  
Venice was beautiful. Hunter and Bobbi disappeared rather quickly, Fitz didn’t ask where they were going. It wasn’t awkward with Jemma, like he thought it would be. Even after everything that had happened between them, over the years, it had never felt awkward to be with her. It just felt right. They wandered around the streets for ages, admiring the buildings, stopping for lunch, eating ice cream. The world seemed to dissipate around them, and suddenly, despite the promise of constant hot showers, his comfortable bed, and a welcome home hug from his mum, Fitz found he didn’t want to go home. Not yet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much again, and I will see you next time! 
> 
> Skye :)


	9. Complicated.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma starts a year of study abroad. Fitz gets used to life without her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Specific Trigger Warnings: Discussion of emotional abuse, brief mention of bdsm practises and discussion of an unhealthy relationship/coping mechanism.
> 
> Surprise! You get another chapter this week! I was feeling particularly productive this week and it also helps that this episode is much shorter than the rest, so there was less to write. The way that this episode is structured actually allowed me to take a few creative liberties, which was nice! I obviously don’t stray too far away from the plot, but it was nice to add in my own wee bits, to just kind of fill in gaps. This was a very neat little chapter to write and I had a bit of fun with it, mostly at poor Hunter’s expense. I hope you enjoy it!

Going back to uni after that summer felt distinctly odd. Jemma wasn’t going to be there. She was doing a year abroad, in Sweden of all places. They kept in regular correspondence. Fitz always looked forward to her emails. 

  


He was still with Sarah. Things were going well with them. She was taking him to meet her parents in a few weeks. Fitz felt unbearably nervous about this. He’d never really done that before. The whole meeting the parents thing. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to act, how he was supposed to be. Sarah told him to just be himself. He wasn’t sure he entirely knew who that was sometimes. He still felt muddled about it sometimes. His head always seemed to clear when he was writing to Jemma or working on his designs. She’d send him ideas sometimes. She’d sent him so many ideas she really deserved partial credit on them. He was due one back to her actually. He loved opening his inbox and seeing he had an email from her. He could only hope she felt the same. 

  


_ I’m glad to hear things are okay over in Sweden and that you’re enjoying your course. Everything here is basically exactly the same as when you left. I looked up your friend, the photographer, on Facebook. He seems interesting. Is he your boyfriend or are you not putting labels on it? I know you like tall, handsome guys, as you once said, so why not this guy, who looks tall and is also handsome. I showed his picture to Sarah and she agrees, but I promise I’m not pushing the boyfriend thing. I just hope that you’ve made sure he’s not a total nut job or some kind of crazy axe murderer. Sarah says hi by the way. I was hoping you’d let me know when you’ll be back for Christmas. It’d be good to see you.  _

  


_ Yours _

  


_ Fitz.  _

  


Fitz leaned back and looked over what he’d written. It wasn’t Shakespeare, but he hoped Jemma would enjoy it. He’d tell her about meeting Sarah’s parents after he’d done it. The thought of telling Jemma about it somehow made his throat tighten. 

  


He looked in his bedroom mirror and fidgeted with the cuffs of his shirt. It was just a dinner. He could do this. Sarah could tell he was nervous too. She grabbed his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze as they walked towards the restaurant. Sarah’s dads met them outside and Fitz shook both of their hands, far too aware of how sweaty his own was. As they sat down, and the conversation began, Fitz was, not for the first time, grateful that he could talk about cars and football. The father that Sarah had introduced as Papa had started to jokingly grill Fitz about his intentions towards his daughter, but quickly stopped when Fitz turned pale and started stammering at him. Her Dad had quickly nudged his husband, and the subject of conversation swiftly turned to the results of the FA Cup. After that it wasn’t so bad. Fitz felt himself relaxing a bit, the knot in his chest that had been tightening ever since Sarah told him her dads were coming to visit, easing. They were proud of Sarah, very proud, that much he could gather, and they loved her very much. She deserved it. She kept shooting him glances, making sure he was okay, and Fitz was grateful. The breath he let out after they had said their goodbyes however, was like nothing Fitz has ever experienced. He had done it. It was all okay. Sarah grabbed his hand, and swung it jovially between them as they wandered down the street. It made Fitz smile. Sarah was good at that. Making him smile.

  


“That was nice.” He smiled at her.

  


It had been in the end.

  


“Good.” Sarah smiled back.

  


“They liked you too.” 

  


“Oh so you were talking about me when I went to the bathroom.” Fitz teased.

  


Sarah just grinned and nudged him with her shoulder. She leaned up and kissed him. Fitz could feel the smile on her lips. 

“They never really got on with Rory.” Sarah mused as they continued to walk.

  


Rory was Sarah’s ex-boyfriend. From the way Sarah described him, he sounded like a pretentious wank. 

  


“Don’t know why. Maybe he was a bit full of it…” She continued.

  


Fitz just looked at her and raised his eyebrows. Sarah just laughed. Fitz liked her laugh. Seeing her face lighting up like that, it made some small part of his chest glow.

  


“From what you’ve told me he sounds like a right arsewipe.” 

  


Sarah laughed.

  


“Did your mum like Jemma?” Sarah asked.

  


Fitz had told Sarah the basics about his relationship with Jemma. She didn’t really need to know more than that. He was too ashamed to tell her everything really.

  


“Of course. Lorna Fitz likes everyone she meets until they give her a reason not to. Then you better watch out.” Fitz grinned.

  


Sarah beamed at him.

  


“I guess she felt a bit sorry for her.” Fitz mused out loud.

  


Fitz watched as Sarah furrowed her brow. 

  


“Sorry for Jemma? About what?” She asked, her tone incredulous.

  


Fitz’s brain went a mile a minute. He hadn’t told anyone about what Jemma had said over the summer, not even his mum. It was too intimate. And he felt ashamed of how he’d acted. His face burned with it, even now. Fitz couldn’t fathom what to say in response. Luckily, Sarah let it go. She curled her arm around his and tucked herself into his side. It was nice. The weather was beginning to get colder. 

  


It was a few nights later that he heard his phone ping. He picked it up and smiled. An email from Jemma. The intervals between her responses were getting longer and longer as time went on. It worried him a bit. He could only hope that she was okay. Fitz shot a glance over to where Sarah was asleep next to him. She hadn’t stirred. He unlocked his phone, and began to read.

  


_ I’m not feeling so much myself at the moment. Not in a bad way, at least I don’t think in a bad way. It’s hard to explain. I just feel outside of my own life somehow. Like I’m watching as a kind of detached spectator, with no emotional attachment to what’s going on in front of me. Sometimes, someone will make eye contact with me, like a bus conductor or something, and I’ll feel shocked that anyone can actually see me at all. There’s something oddly comforting about it. Something good about feeling that numbness, that detachment. Does that make sense?  _

  


_ I hope everything is good with you. _

_ Yours  _

_ Jemma _

  


Fitz let out a long low sigh once he’d finished reading it. His eyes ran over the words once more, before he let his phone slide out of his fingers and onto his chest. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath in through his nose, letting it slide back out of his mouth again. He knew that feeling well. The one Jemma was describing. It had plagued him that first semester of uni. That numbness. That sense of displacement from your own life. Looking back on it, it had been the worst he’d ever felt, but at the time, yeah, there had been a kind of safety in it. A comfort, as she had said. He got that. It had taken seeing Jemma again to break him free from it. His stomach turned uncomfortably. Jemma never really mentioned friends in her emails. Only her photographer friend. Perhaps he had been wrong not to worry about her, going off to a new place. He’d figured she’d thrived in it before, coming to Cambridge, what was to stop her doing the same there? Fitz opened his eyes, and scrambled for his phone before placing it back on his bedside table. He’d reply to her in the morning. Fitz shuffled back down and pulled the duvet up and over his shoulders, resting his chin on the edge. He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep. But Jemma’s words seemed to spin in his head. When he did eventually drift off it was into an uneasy sleep, and he was left wishing that he had waited to read her email in the morning. 

  


Before Fitz could even blink, it was December. Christmas lights were slung everywhere, and everyone was looking forward to the end of the semester. Hunter had excitedly bounced over to him one afternoon, telling him to clear his Friday night, that they were going to the best Christmas party that Cambridge had to offer, and to bring Sarah. Fitz could only nod. He knew by now that saying no to Hunter when he was like this was absolutely pointless. 

  


Hunter’s description of “the best Christmas party Cambridge had to offer” was very much an overstatement. Fitz found himself in a roomy social club with paper garlands and candy coloured christmas lights, that he would safely like to bet were probably as old as he was. Fitz couldn’t help but chuckle as they plonked themselves down onto plastic chairs. This was typical Hunter. At least the DJ was enthusiastic, Fitz thought as he took a swig from his pint glass. 

  


“Thank you Hunter for bringing us to the most fucking depressing…” Fitz started.

  


“Oi oi, I didn’t see you coming up with an alternate plan mate. We’re having fun aren’t we, joining in with the local community!” Hunter interjected. 

  


Fitz just smiled and shook his head. Hunter drained his pint glass and raised it at him. Fitz rolled his eyes at him. It was his round. Thankfully, the bar wasn’t too crowded, and he caught the attention of the barman straight away. 

  


“Two pints of Tennants, a rum and coke and a g and t please.” Fitz said, flashing his bank card at the man. 

  


The man nodded and shuffled off to make his order. The woman standing next to him turned at the sound of his voice.

  


“Leo Fitz! Jesus Christ! Haven’t seen you in  _ such  _ a long time!” She exclaimed.

  


“H-Hannah?!” Fitz managed to sputter out. 

  


The sight of her had totally thrown him. Unconsciously, he began to shake his leg. She was probably the last person in the entire world who he wanted to see.

  


“How’s Jemma getting on? I heard she’s off in Sweden this year!” Hannah yelled over the music. 

  


Fitz had no idea what to say. He’d seen her about, mostly at parties and stuff when he and Jemma had still been together, but that, that was ages ago. Hannah had been a part of the group who had sided with Jamie, after he and Jemma broke up. That whole group had kind of splintered after that unfortunate summer. Good, Fitz had thought. The good people had stayed. He still saw some of Daisy, and Bobbi and Hunter were playing a long game of on and off, so he saw plenty of her. 

  


“Y-yeah.” Fitz stammered.

  


“Heard she’s up to some pretty interesting stuff over there. Jamie was saying she was into some weird shit, like bondage and that kind of shit.” Hannah said casually. 

  


Fitz felt his face turn red. He hated this. He wished the barman would hurry up. Beers would only pour so fast. 

  


“Is it true? Did you start that off with her or something?” She continued regardless. 

  


Fitz felt something snap inside of him. 

  


“Go and fuck off Hannah.” 

  


It came out before he could think twice about it. He didn’t regret it though. He probably should have said it years ago. Hannah looked utterly taken aback. 

  


“It’s just stuff I’ve heard Fitz.” She shot back.

  


“Yeah, well I really don’t want to hear about it. Piss off.” Fitz hit back. 

  


Thankfully the barman came back with his tray of drinks and waving the card machine at him at that moment. Fitz paid him and bolted back away to his table with the tray of drinks. He placed it down before murmuring to Sarah that he’d be back in a second, he just needed some air.

  


Fitz huffed in the cold night air. He could almost feel it in his lungs. His head spun. He hated that anyone was talking about Jemma like that. He hated that it was  _ Jamie, _ that utter wanker, who was the source of it all. Jemma had told him about that on her own. She didn’t have to, but she’d trusted him. He’d never told anyone else. Would never spread it around like petty gossip. Jamie was probably just looking for an excuse for the way he treated her. To make it look like it was Jemma’s fault they broke up. That she was crazy and made  _ him  _ do all that stuff, when really, from what Fitz could gleam, it had been the other way around. It made him want to seek him out and hit him all over again. 

  


“Fitz.” 

  


He heard the voice behind him and spun around. It was Sarah. He let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure what he’d have done if it was Hannah. 

  


“Are you okay?” 

  


Sarah’s voice was soft, as if she was speaking to a child who had recently skint their knee. 

  


“I’m fine.” He sighed out.

  


“Just Hannah. I-I told you about Hannah?” He asked.

  


Sarah nodded. He’d been honest with her about that. She hadn’t judged him, like he thought she maybe would. It had been nice. 

  


“She was talking shit about Jemma. Nasty shit.” He continued.

  


“What kind of things?” Sarah asked carefully.

  


Fitz shook his head. He didn’t want to say. Didn’t want to spread it further. It wasn’t his place to say anything about it. That was Jemma’s personal life. She was a grown adult. She could do what she wanted.

  


“Just, just shit.” He replied. 

  


Sarah crossed her arms in front of her and Fitz remembered that it was cold. She just looked at him for a moment. It seemed as if she wanted to say something.

  


“What?” Fitz eventually asked.

  


“It just- well… She seems to be a person that people like to talk about.” Sarah said.

  


There was an element of confidence to her voice. It made Fitz wonder what it was exactly that she’d heard about Jemma.

  


“I don’t know Fitz. It just, it seems that she maybe doesn’t have a problem with it.” 

  


“What do you mean?” Fitz asked, his brow furrowing.

  


“I mean she kind of writes it herself. She enjoys it.” Sarah replied plainly, as if this was actual fact. 

  


Fitz couldn’t look at her. He obviously couldn’t speak for her, he wouldn’t dare, but he knew Jemma well enough that he didn’t think she’d like people talking about her behind her back. At least, not like this. Not with the kinds of things Hannah had been saying. 

  


“Why are you so bothered about it?” 

  


Fitz huffed out a laugh. He’d been asking himself that question since the night air had first hit his face. There was one answer, that played on a constant loop in the back of his mind. But he couldn’t. That was done. Over. Ancient history, never to be repeated for the good of all humanity. All Fitz could do was shrug. It was weak. But it was something. Sarah nodded.

  


“I’m going to go back in. I’m cold.” She said softly.

  


Fitz recognised the invitation for what it was. He wasn’t quite ready to join in yet. He just shook his head. Sarah gave him one last look, one last opportunity to join her, before turning and heading back inside. Fitz listened to the click of her boots as she went. He let out a long sigh, and his eyes fell on a bench just behind him. He slumped down on it, and bawled his fists into his eyes. He wished he knew what to do.

  


He was due Jemma an email. She’d sent him one a couple of days ago and he hadn’t had an opportunity to reply yet. End of semester deadlines had been keeping him too busy. He was almost finished his last essay. He just had to finish his conclusion. He could take a ten minute break to reply to her. 

  


_ Hi Jemma. _

  


_ It’s good to hear from you as always. From your emails, it doesn’t sound like you’re completely happy in Sweden. Maybe I’m wrong. I think I know that feeling of being detached from the world. I haven’t felt like that recently, but I just wanted to let you know that I know how it feels. Hopefully that’s helpful.  _

  


_ I was sad to hear that you’re not coming home for Christmas. I know it’s your decision and everything, and I don’t want to put any kind of pressure on you at all. It would have been nice to see you, is all. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure I’ve ever gone a whole year of my life without seeing you before. At least, not since we started high school, so since we were about twelve. Anyway, I guess that’s just my way of saying that I miss you. I’m looking forward to seeing you again, whenever that might be.  _

  


_ Will you send me a message soon, just to let me know how you’re getting on? We could talk on the phone even, if you wanted? _

  


_ Deadlines are horrible. I hope Sweden is a bit more lax about things than Cambridge is.  _

  


_ Miss you. _

_ Fitz. _

  


Fitz leaned back in his chair and read it over. Yeah, that would do. He pressed send and turned back to his essay with a sigh. He hated endings. 

  


It took a while for Jemma to reply. He figured she was bogged down with deadlines too. He was back home in Glasgow by the time her name appeared in his inbox again. Fitz had driven up the day before, thankful that he didn’t have to work this year. Christmas was a terrible time to be working. He was glad to be able to have some extra time at home this year,especially since he’d promised Sarah he’d spend New Year with her. It was dark by the time he’d reached home. The main road was slung with Christmas lights, the shops all had trees in their windows. He’d been sitting in the front room, watching some terrible Christmas telly with his mum when his phone buzzed. He always smiled when he found a new email from her in his inbox. 

  


_ I’ve been thinking a lot about the summer, and about Jamie. I’m trying to figure out if I ever really thought that was love. That that was what a relationship should be. That it was real or if I just liked the feeling of it. The pretense of it all.  _

  


_ You must be getting ready to go home, or maybe you’re there already. When I think of Christmastime now, I think of Glasgow. I can picture a Christmas tree in your front room, covered with tinsel. I can’t picture my house at all really.  _

  


_ I miss you.  _

  


_ I hope you have a wonderful Christmas Fitz. _

  


_ Jemma _

  


As he did with all of her emails, Fitz read this twice before trying to figure it out. His heart leapt at those three words. It shouldn’t, but it did. He couldn’t help it. It was good, he thought that she was figuring out what she wanted, how she felt. It was good. He shot back a quick email wishing her a merry Christmas. He’d send a longer one when he’d had time to think. 

  


Christmas came and went, and it had been nearly two weeks since Jemma’s initial email. Fitz realised he’d never sent his longer reply. It had never been this long between emails. He was supposed to be going back to Cambridge tomorrow, to spend time with Sarah, and for New Year. He’d better do it now. 

  


_ Hi Jemma _

_ It’s been a while since I heard from you. I just wanted to check that everything was alright. I wonder if I said something stupid in my one of last emails. I hope I didn’t but I’m sorry if I did.  _

  


_ I know you said that you weren’t coming home for Christmas because of your family and I maybe shouldn’t have brushed over that. I’m sorry.  _

  


_ I’m sorry to bring this up, because I know we haven’t talked about it since it happened, but I want you to know that I haven’t forgotten the things you told me when we were in Italy, and I hope you know that none of those things are your fault and that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you. You are a good person Jemma. I say that as someone who really knows you. I know I reacted stupidly that night, and I hope you can forgive me for it. I’m lucky we’re still friends after what I did. It was such an idiotic thing to do. I’m sorry. Just because people treat you badly sometimes, and I include myself in that, I know I haven’t been the best to you over the years, it doesn’t mean you deserve to be treated badly. A lot of people love you and care so much about you. I hope you know that.  _

  


_ Please know that I’m thinking about you and that I’m always here to talk if you need me.  _

  


_ I hope you have a good New Year, whatever it is that you’re doing, if I don’t hear from you by then.  _

  


_ I still miss you. _

_ Fitz. _

  


He didn’t even think before he pressed send. He could only hope that it was the right thing to do. He’d been thinking about it all so much recently, ever since Hannah had said those things to him really. The words had been spinning in his head for so long. It was good to get them out. But for now, he could only hope that they had helped. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you sosososososososSO much for reading! The next chapter is a lot, so I might take my time with it. Everything may not be as speedy as it has been this week. But the things that chapter cover are important not just to me, but to so many people and I want to do it right. Anyway, I will see you next time!
> 
> Skye :)


	10. Bad.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz gets some bad news from home. Jemma supports him from afar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Specific Trigger Warnings: Mention of suicide, Panic attacks, Depression, Therapy, Counselling, Mental health issues, Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Funeral, Mention of anti-depressants, Self hatred, and Brief mention of body image
> 
> Well folks, we have made it. As you can probably guess from the trigger warnings, this is a fairly heafty chapter. It is a lot, so I just wanted to make you all aware of that before you dove in. As I said at the end of the last chapter, the topics and emotions covered in this chapter are unfortunately close to my heart and to countless others, and I have tried my utter best to do them justice, and can only hope that I have succeeded. I honestly cannot believe there’s only two chapters left to go, I feel equally as if I started this fic yesterday, and also as if I started it about ten years ago, but then again I think this whole blasted year has felt a bit like that. I’m currently putting off rewatching the final episode for writing prep, because every single time it has utterly burst me. So look forward for that coming soon. Anyway, I will let you all get to the reading, and quit my usual witterings.

_...and he felt the old beat of pleasure inside his body, like watching a perfect goal, like the rustling movement of light through leaves, a phrase of music from the window of a passing car. Life offers up these moments of joy despite everything.  _

**March.**

Fitz bounced his leg erratically. He didn’t like this room much. You could smell the age of it, that stale scent filling up his nostrils, made all the worse by the false heat coming from the radiators. He could feel the roughness of the polyester chair covering underneath him. If he had to guess, he’d say that the chair was older than him. The high ceilings made him feel small, which made him feel worse than he already did. The ever present dull ringing that had pervaded every inch of his body for months now seemed to dial itself up. He fiddled with the pen in his hand and looked back down at the form he was supposed to be filling in. 

**Self Dislike**

  1. I feel the same about myself as ever


  1. I have lost confidence in myself
  2. I am disappointed in myself
  3. I dislike myself.



Fitz let out a sigh. Every one of those statements seemed to ring true. He stared at this list for a moment before circling the bottom one. It seemed the most true out of all of them. He filled the rest of the form in quickly, mostly because he didn’t want to do it anymore, before handing it back to the lady at the reception desk. She glanced at it casually as he handed it over, as if this form didn’t contain some of the most personal details Fitz could ever remember committing to paper. Fitz sat back down again and breathed in the smell of dust that seemed to erupt from his chair. He played with his hands and bounced his leg and tried to remember how he’d ended up here. Hunter’s voice seemed to float through some kind of mist.

“You should go and talk to someone mate.” He’d said.

Hunter had come to see him. He hadn’t needed to do that, but he did. Fitz had moved out of the house last year, into halls again, because his scholarship paid for that now. It meant he didn’t see as much of Hunter anymore. Hunter had come to him a couple of weeks ago. He’d found him on the floor of his room, back pressed against the wall, his breath still somewhat uneasy from the panic attack he’d had not fifteen minutes prior. When he’d asked what was wrong, it all came spilling out. 

“Are you sleeping?” Hunter had asked.

Fitz wasn’t sure he knew what sleep was anymore. Every time he closed his eyes, his internal voice seemed to scream at him. It played every terrible thing he’d ever said or done, every awkward interaction, every fumble, every missed opportunity, every mistake. It told him he should have done better. So he’d stopped closing his eyes until he was so exhausted he couldn’t bear it. Fitz shook his head. 

“There’s a service the uni provides. It’s free. I think you should contact them mate.” 

Hunter had spoken quietly. In the back of his mind, Fitz thought that he’d never heard him speak quietly in his entire life. Thoughts like these, normal thoughts, things that brought a small smile to his face all seemed muffled. Like someone had surrounded them in yards and yards of cotton wool. Hunter had helped him compose the email, had texted him this morning to make sure he was up and getting ready, had texted him when his appointment was supposed to start. Fitz wondered what he’d done to deserve him. To deserve that kindness. He knew he was not worth it. 

“Leopold?” 

A voice broke him out of his reverie. A woman stood before him, smiling kindly down at him. It wasn’t patronising. Fitz was relieved. He couldn’t abide being patronised. 

“It’s Fitz. Just Fitz.” He’d stammered at her. 

She nodded.

“Alright then Fitz. Would you like to come through?” She’d asked kindly. 

Fitz just grabbed his bag from where it lay at his feet and followed her, carefully walking a few paces behind her. 

**January.**

“TEN, NINE, EIGHT, SEVEN, SIX, FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!”

The pub seemed to ring with happiness. Fitz found himself being pulled down for a New Years kiss by Sarah, whilst Hunter danced merrily around them. He was wearing some god awful Christmas jumper that for some reason lit up. The pint in Hunter’s hand slopped messily over the side as he danced and Fitz wondered momentarily if he should be worried he might electrocute himself. He’d broken things off with Bobbi for the umpteenth time a couple of days ago, and this was the first time he’d seemed happy since, so Fitz just left him to it. He couldn’t help the smile on his face. Life was good. 

It must have been about two o’clock in the morning by the time they finally left the pub. Sarah was tucked into his side as they walked, and the streets were still full of drunk people, all shouting “HAPPY NEW YEAR” as they passed. Fitz could only grin. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket. If it had been an hour, an hour and a half earlier, he might have dismissed it, someone wishing him a happy new year probably. But he pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at it. It was from Sally Webber. Fitz frowned and unlocked his phone. She’d sent a message to an old group chat from high school. The last message on it had been nearly two years ago. Odd. 

**Sally** Has anyone seen Milton? He didn’t show tonight? 

Fitz read the message twice. 

“You alright?” Sarah’s voice seemed to cut through his thoughts.

“Ye-yeah. Just a message from an old school friend.” He replied. 

Sarah didn’t ask any more questions and Fitz was grateful. It let him dismiss the whole thing and tuck his phone back into his pocket. It was nothing. Fitz was sure of it. He pulled Sarah closer and continued walking on, determined to think nothing more of it. 

Fitz groaned when he woke up early the next morning. It took him a moment to register that it wasn’t Sarah’s alarm going off, but his own phone, ringing. Who on earth would be calling him this early on New Years Day? He scrambled for his phone, and was surprised to see his mum’s name reflected back at him. He sat up straight and swung his legs out from the covers. He was worried now. 

“Mum?” He asked quickly. 

He heard Sarah stirring behind him. 

“Hi darling.” Lorna’s voice sounded back.

“W-what is it? What’s happened?” 

He heard her give a long, deep sigh. 

“Are you on your own?” She asked.

“What? N-No, Sarah’s here. What’s happened?” 

He was really worried now. Lorna let out a long, shaking breath.

“They found a body this morning sweetheart.” 

Fitz went very cold very quickly. 

“W-what? What do you mean a body? Whose body?” 

He felt a cold sweat erupting over his skin. He felt Sarah suddenly sit up behind him.

“Milton’s. They pulled a body out of the Clyde this morning. It was him, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

The world seemed to melt. He couldn’t take it in. Milton. A body. The Clyde. The phone fell from his hand. He was aware of a warmth on his shoulder. Sarah’s hand, he would later discover. The room seemed to spin. He felt sick. This was wrong. So utterly, and terribly wrong. 

**March.**

Fitz sat down in the chair that the counselor, Gillian, she had said her name was, had gestured to. She offered him a glass of water. Fitz just shook his head. He watched as she sat down in the chair across from him, and picked up the pad of paper and pencil that sat on the table next to her. There was a table next to him too. On it sat a lamp and a box of tissues. 

“Okay.” Gillian had started softly.

“Why don’t we talk about how you’re feeling.” 

Fitz looked at his hands. He couldn’t find it in himself to bring his head up those few inches to look at her. It felt as if it would take a gargantuan effort, one that he did not have the energy nor the motivation for. 

“Not great, to be honest.” He mumbled.

He picked at a hangnail on his thumb. 

“I’m sorry to hear that Fitz.” Gillian replied. 

Fitz let out a shaky breath. He wished he knew if she was being genuine or not. Some small muffled part of his brain reasoned that it was her job to care about him, but the large roaring voice that had dominated him for so long now said that it was just her job. She didn’t really care. Not much worth caring about really.

“When did you start feeling like this?” She asked kindly.

“A-A few months ago. January I guess.” Fitz stumbled out.

He didn’t need to think about it. He could almost pin on the exact second when it had started. The second, the hour, the minute. But he didn’t think she’d want it that specific. 

“Did something happen in January, or did this all come out of nowhere, do you feel?” 

The words seemed stuck. Fitz felt as if he were choking on them. He wished he’d accepted that glass of water now. 

“A-a friend of mine killed himself in January. A friend from high school.” Fitz managed to choke out.

His entire mouth, all the way down his throat felt dry, as if the words themselves had sucked all moisture from him. 

“I’m very sorry to hear that Fitz.” 

Gillian’s voice was gentle. And somehow, this time, Fitz knew she meant it. She was genuinely sorry. A moment of calm seemed to soothe over him, just for a second, before the buzzing came back, filling and permeating every single inch of his body again. 

“We hadn’t really kept up with each other, after we went to uni. I-I spent some time with him, the summer after first year when I had to move home again, but uh, after that... He was back in Glasgow and I was here.” Fitz explained. 

The words had gone round and round in his head for so long. 

“I-uh I guess I feel guilty. About not talking to him more. Not keeping up with him. Making sure he was alright.”

Now that he started he couldn’t seem to stop. It all just came tumbling out without his volition. He wasn’t even aware he’d been holding it in until he felt a small ease somewhere in his chest. 

“I can understand that, but however you’re feeling about your friend, what happened to him was not your fault. You are not responsible for the decisions he made.”

Fitz wasn’t sure he entirely believed her. He recognised some truth in what she was saying, but he could have done  _ something.  _

“I never even replied to the last text message he sent me.” Fitz said bitterly.

It was true. He’d looked. It had been over a year ago. It would have been so easy to type a reply back. It would have taken two seconds out of his day. 

“When you lose someone to suicide, it can be natural to wonder if there’s any more you could have done in order to help this person.” Gillian explained calmly. 

“I’m sure everyone in your friend’s life is asking themselves the same question now.” She continued. 

Fitz wasn’t sure if this made him feel better. 

“Yeah but at least other people tried to help him. I did nothing.” He shot back. 

Two seconds. Two seconds to send him a text message. And he couldn’t even manage that. What kind of a horrible, selfish bastard was he that he couldn’t even do that? 

**January.**

Fitz had driven home on New Years Day. Sarah had asked if he wanted her to go with him. He’d said no. He wanted to be alone for a bit. She’d get the train up in a couple of days, come for the funeral. Fitz had asked her to come. Mostly because he wasn’t sure he could face it alone. His mum was waiting at the door when he pulled up to the house. He hadn’t cried. Not when she’d spoken to him that morning, not when he’d been talking and making arrangements with Sarah. But seeing her standing there waiting, feeling her arms around him as she pulled him into the familiar warmth of their home, Fitz couldn’t help the tears that came easily and freely. Normally a hug from his mum made him feel like the whole world would somehow be okay, no matter how bad it got. But even that didn’t quite take the edge off of it this time. It still lingered. And it hurt. It fucking hurt. 

He met up with his old school mates in the pub a few days later. It was late afternoon, they’d not long opened, so it wasn’t busy. They all just sat quietly round a table, playing with their half drunk pints.

“He’d been drinking a fair bit. Seemed a bit out of sorts.” One of them had said. 

“Never wanted to go home. Always wanted one more.” 

The numbness that Fitz had been feeling for the past few days seemed to sink into his bones, make a residence there. 

“Got into a few fights. Nothing serious, just thought it was a laugh.” 

Fitz couldn’t bear it. 

He sobbed to his mum when he got home that night. It seemed to come in waves. Grief, he supposed. He felt numb in between. And then out of nowhere something would remind him, or he would suddenly just remember and it all overwhelmed him all over again.

He wasn’t sure what he felt when Sarah came up for the funeral. They squeezed into his small single bed the night before. He couldn’t get comfortable. It almost didn’t feel right having her there, in this bed with him. He’d only done this with one other person. It had felt right with her. 

He stared at his suit for a while before putting it on. It was the only suit he owned. It felt tight and uncomfortable around the shoulders. He’d had it since he was sixteen. He hadn’t grown much since then, but he was a few inches taller and the trousers were almost awkwardly short. But he didn’t have anything else. 

“You look handsome.” Sarah said from behind him.

It sent uncomfortable prickles across his skin. He wished she hadn’t said anything.

Sarah hung onto his arm as they entered the church. Fitz wasn’t a fan of churches in the first place. His eyes scanned the crowd of people. He knew almost every single face. And then, there she was.

“Jemma.” He spoke, just as his eyes locked onto hers again.

He broke away from Sarah and moved instinctively towards her. She must have flown back, just for this. He reached her and his arms found her and pulled her towards him. Fitz let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He’d been holding it for so long. He held onto her and suddenly, for the first time since he’d heard the words, he no longer felt as if he were drowning. Jemma didn’t make it better, she didn’t make it okay, but she made it bearable. She made it seem as if life could maybe go on. They clung to each other, for Fitz didn’t know how long. Probably inappropriately long. Fitz only became aware when he felt a hand on his arm. Sarah. He didn’t want to let go. He felt Jemma’s grip on him slacken and he reluctantly let her go. Sarah looped her arm through his and they walked on. 

Greeting Milton’s parents was hard. It was his dad doing it really. His mum was in bits. No fit state to greet anyone. 

“I hear you’re doing great things at Cambridge Fitz.” His dad had said.

Fitz could only nod. 

“Good lad. Thanks for coming.”

“I’m so sorry.”

It was all he could manage to say. It seemed weak. It didn’t seem enough. Sarah gave his hand a squeeze as they walked away. It didn’t make him feel any better. They sat down and his mum put her arm round his shoulder. His eyes found the back of Jemma’s head as she sat a few rows in front of them. She turned, and gave him a small, almost imperceptible smile. Fitz felt a small, miniscule glow at the bottom of his stomach. It was gone as soon as it came. 

The service was not easy. Every part of him seemed to ring. 

The wake was held at the pub that had been their regular in high school. It felt odd seeing everyone there in formal dress. Fitz didn’t feel like talking to anyone. Not even Sarah. He kept brushing her off whenever she tried. He just sipped his tea. He watched as one of his old pals from school, Harry, came over, and braced himself.

“How are things?” Harry asked.

What a stupid question. They were at their pals wake. Fitz just nodded.

“This the girlfriend?” Harry asked, nodding at Sarah?

“Y-yeah. Sarah this is Harry, Harry, Sarah.” Fitz stammered.

Harry held out his hand and Sarah shook it. 

“Must be your fault he’s never home anymore.” Harry said, a small laugh in his voice.

“Nope. No. That’s my fault. Not her fault.” Fitz interjected before Sarah could answer.

“I’m just messing Fitz.” 

Harry’s voice dropped. He was being serious now. 

“Good of Jemma to come. I thought she was off in Sweden or something like that.” Harry said casually, taking a sip from his coffee.

“Yeah, she was. Came back for the funeral.” Fitz replied.

He wished Harry would go away.

“She’s gotten pretty thin hasn’t she?” Harry said dryly.

It was true. Her cheeks looked more hollow than Fitz remembered them. She seemed paler too, but Fitz had put that down to the situation they now found themselves in. Almost as if she knew they were talking about her, Jemma came over, filling her cup with more tea. 

“Ah talk of the devil. Very good of you to come all the way from Sweden Simmons.” Harry said, a small smile on his face.

Fitz watched Jemma flinch slightly at the use of her last name. They’d only called her that when they were making fun of her. It was only for a moment, but Fitz saw. He watched her force her face into relaxation and give Harry a small smile.

“It’s nice to see you.” 

Fitz couldn’t tell if she was being genuine, or just being polite. She and Harry had never seen eye to eye when they were at school, to put it mildly. 

“Do you know Sarah here?” Harry asked, trying his best to be convivial. 

Fitz watched Jemma flinch again. It didn’t take a genius to work out why. Fitz saw her arranging her features again before speaking.

“Of course! We were in uni together. How are you Sarah?” Jemma said, her eyes flitting briefly from Harry to Sarah.

Sarah gave her a small smile, and a short nod, before turning back to Fitz. They had never been the best of friends, but this was something else. Harry, unfortunately, picked up on it. 

“Everything’s all friendly I hope? No rivalry or anything?” Harry grinned, bringing his cup back up to his lips. 

Fitz recognised the smile Jemma plastered onto her face. She was deeply uncomfortable. 

“Now now Harry, behave yourself.” She smiled. 

Harry just shot her a small wink, and Fitz quickly busied himself with getting another cup of tea. 

He was glad to be home. Fitz stayed quiet for the rest of the evening, pushing his food around his plate at dinner time. He felt exhausted, down to his very bones. A heavy weight seemed to have settled in the bottom of his stomach and a numbness ran through every part of his body, right to the very tips of his fingers. There was a buzzing in his head and all he wanted was to sleep. He just wished he was alone. Sarah lay flat on her back next to him in bed, not cuddled in like last night, but stiff like a plank of wood. She wasn’t asleep either. Her breath was too erratic. 

“Why didn’t you introduce me to any of your friends?” She asked eventually.

Fitz shifted his head slightly to look at her. She was staring pointedly at the ceiling. What the hell kind of a question was that?

“I introduced you to Harry.” Fitz replied.

“Only after he asked. Honestly, it didn’t really seem like you wanted him to meet me.” Sarah shot back. 

She wasn’t happy with him. She wasn’t even trying to hide it. Fitz was confused. It had been a funeral, not, in his mind, a particularly social occasion. He stayed quiet, trying to think of what to say, but his thoughts were frustratingly intangible, the buzzing, the numbness threatening to overwhelm him. He just wanted to sleep.

“If you didn’t want me to come, you shouldn’t have asked me.” Sarah said bitterly.

Fitz’s head spun.

“Okay, I’m sorry I asked you then.”

It was what he thought she wanted to hear. Sleep. Let me sleep. Immediately he knew it was wrong. Sarah sat up, staring down at him incredulously. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? You’re sorry I was there?” She asked defensively.

He was so tired he could cry. He didn’t have the energy for this. 

“No. Course not. I’m just sorry you got the wrong impression about what today was going to be like. Sorry.” 

Fitz felt his eyes rolling in his head as he spoke. He was aware of how he must sound. Lazy, uninterested. Unconcerned. He was just tired.

“You didn’t want me there at all did you?” 

Sarah’s voice cracked as she spoke. Jesus Christ please don’t cry. Fitz wasn’t sure he could bear it if she started crying. 

“I didn’t want to be there myself honestly.” Fitz sighed, closing his eyes.

“I’m sorry you didn’t have a good time, but it was a funeral. I don’t know what you expected.” He finished.

He wished she would just let it rest. Let him rest. Sarah was quiet for a moment. Fitz could hear her fidgeting, toying with the sheets. 

“You weren’t ignoring Jemma.” 

This wasn’t the first time Jemma had come up. Sarah found it odd that he spent so much time talking to his ex. Fitz maintained that she simply didn’t get it. He doubted she ever would. Fitz let out a long sigh. He  _ really  _ did not have the energy for this. 

“I wasn’t ignoring anyone.”

There was some truth to it. He hadn’t ignored anyone, not on purpose at least. He just hadn’t felt like talking to anyone. If someone came and spoke to him, like Harry had, he hadn’t been rude. He responded, but he couldn’t say he did it with any great enthusiasm. 

“But you seemed particularly happy to see  _ her _ .” Sarah shot back.

“Oh for fucks sake. Why does every argument have to come back to this?” 

Fitz had reached a point. He couldn’t do it anymore.

“Our friend just killed himself, and you want to have a go at me about Jemma? Seriously? I-I was happy to see her. Does that make me a monster?” He argued back.

“I’ve been very sympathetic about Milton. You know that. What do you expect me to do Fitz? Just not notice that you’re staring at some other girl when I’m standing right next to you?!” Sarah exclaimed. 

Fitz felt his blood boil at the words ‘some other girl’. Jemma was more than that. Better than that. 

“I was not staring at her.”

Liar.

“You were! In the church. I watched you!” Sarah said, her voice incredulous. 

“If I was staring it was unintentional.” 

Liar. Sarah just shook her head at him.

“Why do you have to act so weird around her?” Sarah asked.

“How I act around Jemma is my normal personality. Maybe I am just weird.” 

The words fell out without him thinking about it, but as soon as they were out he knew they were true. He was himself around Jemma. His real self. And in some strange way, it had been good to be reminded of that today. He’d missed it. He felt Sarah flop back down next to him, and he was grateful. Fitz turned away from her, trying to forget she was even there. He was so tired. He just wanted to go to sleep. Maybe he wouldn’t wake up again. Fitz found that he didn’t mind that thought. The sleep he did fall into was uneasy. Uncertain. The dreams he dreamt were as disconnected, as disorientating as his mind felt. When he woke, he couldn’t tell you what happened in them, only that he wanted to stay in this bed for the rest of his life, if it meant he didn’t have to face the world outside of it.

Going back to uni felt strange. Fitz’s head hadn’t stopped spinning. He wasn’t even sure he could hear what the lecturer was saying anymore. The buzzing, the ringing in his head was so loud, little outside noise cut through. The lecture halls suddenly felt too big, too all encompassing. The sheer size of them made him feel ill. He managed two weeks of this, before he stopped attending lectures all together, instead staying in the safety of his room, grateful for the lecture recordings that would be put up on the online system. Some days he just stayed in bed. The world felt too much. Bed was a safe place. A place where his hands didn’t shake, where his stomach didn’t turn, where his head did not ring. There he could just feel blissfully numb. There he could pull the covers up, over his head, and shut the world out. When he did try to leave the safe sanctuary of his room, it felt like there was a brick wall between himself and the door. It got to the point where he could not even touch the door handle. He could manage if he was going to the cafeteria downstairs, where he filled himself with one meal every day, before slumping back to the haven of his room. But the idea of going to class, of going to the lab, even of speaking to other people, ordering a tea at a cafe, felt utterly and completely overwhelming. These attempts usually ended with him curled into a ball on the floor, his heart pounding, feeling as if he were choking, the world turning black around him. Eventually his breath would even out again, and he would strip off his coat and shoes and return to the safety of his bed. It just took everything out of him. 

Sarah came by one day. He’d been ignoring her texts. But then he’d been ignoring everyone’s texts. He just wished the world would stop. He couldn’t tell you how Sarah began, but he got the gist of it pretty quickly.

“I want to be there for you, but you just won’t let me?” She said, tears running down her cheeks.

It was as if there was a glass wall between herself and him. He could understand what she was saying, but it was as if he couldn’t take it in, like there was a delay. 

“I have tried. But I feel like I’m holding onto other, frankly, legitimate worries, that existed before this. Before you felt like this. And I can’t just sit on them because you’re feeling low Fitz, that’s just not fair. On me or you. I really do care about you. I hate seeing you like this. But I just don’t think this is working anymore. I don’t know that it was all the way working before. But now, all this has just…” Sarah trailed.

She was properly crying now. Fitz just lay on his bed and stared. He knew she was upset. He just couldn’t comprehend it. Couldn’t process it. 

“... exacerbated it I think.” She finished.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” 

It was all he could say. He felt utterly numb. 

“I’m sorry too.” Sarah sobbed.

She sat there for a while, crying, before wiping her eyes and leaving. Fitz knew he probably wouldn’t see her again. He knew it should hurt, that he should be upset. But he wasn’t. He just wasn’t. 

**March.**

“Do you have friends here at Cambridge? Anyone who you could talk to about how you’re feeling?” Gillian asked. 

Fitz knew it wasn’t a long list.

“There’s uh, Hunter. Lance Hunter. Maybe. He was the one that t-told me about this.” Fitz stammered, making a vague gesture between them. 

Fitz saw her give a small smile as he looked up tentatively. 

“Good. That’s good. He’s looking out for you. Hunter?” She confirmed.

Fitz nodded.

“T-there is another friend I’m pretty close with, but uh, she’s not here at the moment. She’s on Erasmus this year, in Sweden.” Fitz mumbled.

He could feel Gillian’s eyes on him.

“Jemma.” He said quietly.

Apart from Hunter, she was the only other person he’d really talked to these last few months. He always felt a bit better after talking to her. She was the first person he told that Sarah had broken up with him. They’d skyped a few days after it happened, when he was feeling up to it.

“I’m so sorry Fitz. It sounds awful.” She’d said.

“I liked Sarah.” Jemma had continued. 

For the first time in ages, Fitz cracked a small smile. 

“I did!” Jemma insisted. 

“I genuinely did! I know she wasn’t the most fond of me but… She made you  happy, and it made me happy to see you like that.”

“I don’t know.” Fitz had said with a shake of his head.

“Don’t really feel anything. But then I-uh, I have a panic attack or I realise I’m crying, so I must feel things. It just all seems to store up and hit me all at once. It just doesn’t connect at the time.” He’d mumbled.

Jemma had looked at him for a moment. It wasn’t pity, and for that Fitz had been grateful. He wasn’t sure he could stand pity.

“I understand.” She’d said. 

“I know you do.” 

And he did. 

“I’m really tired.” He sighed. 

He’d been tired for months. It had been never ending. 

“Do you want to go to sleep?” Jemma had asked softly.

“We can keep Skype on.”

Fitz nodded. He hadn’t wanted to be alone. Not now that they’d started talking. 

“Carry me over to your bed.” Jemma had said with a gentle smile.

Fitz had felt a small warmth in the bottom of his stomach. Happy. For that moment, he had been happy. He’d picked up his laptop and placed it on a chair next to his bed, plugging it into its charger, before changing into his pyjamas, turning the light off and crawling into bed. Safe. He was safe here. Jemma was here. He’d fallen asleep easily that night, and it had actually been peaceful. No strange stress dreams had plagued him that night. 

“Is she a friend from uni?” Gillian asked, bringing Fitz back to the present. 

Fitz shook his head.

“We went to high school together.” Fitz murmured. 

He toyed with his hands. It felt odd telling her about Jemma. Good. But odd.

“She’s at Cambridge as well. Jemma.” He clarified.

Gillian nodded.

“Sh-she knew our friend Milton, t-the one who died. But uhm, like I said, she’s away this year.” Fitz mumbled.

When he’d woken up that next morning, Jemma was still there. He’d woken up, rolled over and there she was, sat at her desk, working away. Briefly, Fitz had wondered if she’d slept at all.

“You’re awake.” Fitz had grumbled sleepily.

She’d turned to him and smiled.

“Morning.” She’d grinned.

“Morning.” He’d smiled back.

Fitz felt a momentary glow of warmth at the memory.

“Is Jemma someone who you could talk about how you’re feeling?” Gillian asked.

Fitz nodded.

“She’s been supportive about it.” Fitz said. 

The more he spoke, the easier he found it to raise his head, to look at her. 

“Sh-she’s difficult to describe if you don’t know her. She’s uhm, she’s really smart. Smarter than me by far. We-we see the world in the same way, I think. We grew up together. She-she knows what it’s like to come from where we come from. What it was like. It’s been, it’s been different, being away from her this year. An adjustment.” Fitz stammered.

“I can imagine. It doesn’t sound like it’s been easy for you.” Gillian replied gently.

Fitz shook his head, feeling tears begin to sting at the corners of his eyes. It had been difficult. So difficult. 

“I-uh, don’t really connect with a lot of people. I struggle with that.” 

Fitz felt his voice grow heavy. He didn’t want to cry, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to help it, not here.

“Do you think that’s a new problem? Or is this something that’s familiar to you?” Gillian asked. 

“It’s familiar.”

He didn’t even have to think about it. Making friends was never something that had come easily to him. He’d gotten lucky in high school to have just fallen in with a crowd. 

“In school, I-uh, I felt kind of isolated from everyone else, but p-people seemed to like me. But here, I-I don’t think that people like me very much.”

It felt equally like admitting a terrible, dirty secret, but also like a small weight coming off of his chest.

“Milton, my friend who uh… I mean I wouldn’t say we clicked on any kind of deep level or anything, but uh, we were friends.” Fitz stammered. 

Something in his chest seemed to release as he spoke, so he kept going. He didn’t know why.

“W-we didn’t have a lot in common, when it came to interests and stuff and uh, definitely not politically or anything, but uh, that stuff didn’t really matter in high school.” 

Fitz felt his voice breaking, felt the tear that was now falling down his cheek. 

“B-because we were in the same group of friends. It d-d, it didn’t matter.” 

He found he couldn’t look up anymore. He almost couldn’t bear to have her watch him cry.

“I can understand that.” 

Gillian’s voice sounded oddly far away now. Not disconnected, like some voices had been to him these past few months, just far off.

“He uh, did some stuff that I didn’t like, with girls and things. But- but…” 

His voice seemed to crack more than ever now. The tears came freely, without his permission.

“We were eighteen. W-we acted like idiots. And uh, I think I felt a bit alienated with that stuff. Girls and all that. And uh, I think I thought that if I came here it would be different. That I’d fit in better. I thought I would meet more like minded people, but that uh, that just didn’t happen. I kept waiting on it and it just never came.” 

There. He’d said it out loud. A sob broke free from his mouth. He couldn’t help it. 

“I-I left Glasgow thinking I could have a different kind of life. But I- I-” 

The words stuck in his throat.

“I hate it here.” 

They finally came out with a sob.

“And I can never go back. Cause that life’s gone. Those friendships are gone and Milton is gone, and I-I can’t see him again. I can’t get that life back. And I have no idea what my life is even supposed to be anymore. I’ve failed.” He sobbed.

He wiped at his nose, realising suddenly that it was running.

“I’m sorry.” He spluttered out.

“You don’t need to apologise.” Gillian replied, almost as quickly as he’d gotten the words out.

He cried for a few more moments and then reached for the tissue box sat next to him. It was covered in colourful flowers that he hadn’t noticed before. 

Fitz left the session with pamphlets and a note to take to his GP to help him get some anti-depressants. As he walked away Fitz felt, lighter somehow. He knew it was a cliche, but it was how he felt. He stopped at a set of traffic lights, waiting for them to change, and let out a long breath. This had been good. For the first time in months, Fitz could consider the possibility that perhaps, things could get better. 

He’d promised Jemma he’d skype her after the appointment. She was one of the few people he’d even told about it. He didn’t want anyone to worry about him, or worse, looking at him funny. He smiled, as he always did when he saw her face. He didn’t go into great detail about what he spoke about, he didn’t want to fully go into it again, just enough for her to get the gist. He told her about Gillian too, how good she’d been.

“She sounds nice.” Jemma smiled.

It was good to see her smile.

“Well done Hunter.” She grinned.

“That’ll be a first.” Fitz joked.

Jemma laughed.

“How do you feel now?” She asked, her voice returning to more solemn territory. 

Fitz shrugged.

“Alright. A bit flat I guess. Tired.” He said.

Jemma just looked at him for a moment. He knew that face. She wanted to say something but wasn’t quite sure.

“What is it?” Fitz asked softly.

Jemma paused. She chewed on her lip.

“Do- do you ever feel, I don’t know, angry about it all?” She asked.

Fitz furrowed his brow.

“How’d you mean?” 

“About Milton. After the funeral, did you feel angry?” Jemma asked again.

Fitz still wasn’t entirely sure what she meant.

“W-with him or…” He trailed off.

“No! No, of course not!” Jemma quickly replied.

“I-I mean, I know people  _ do _ feel like that when someone… But no. That’s not what I meant. I just, I couldn’t get off Facebook. So many people were posting on Milton’s page, about what a good person he was, what a bright future he had, how sorry they were he was gone. It made me genuinely furious. What did all these people mean, advertising their loss like that?” She continued.

Fitz couldn’t help the smile that came to his face. He always did enjoy it when Jemma went on a rant. Mostly because she was always right. 

“And who is it for?! Not Milton, obviously. I don’t know. What is the etiquette there? Should  _ I  _ be liking every comment on his page?” Jemma asked, the frustration in her voice clear.

“Sounds like you’ve really worked through that anger there Jemma.” Fitz grinned.

Jemma’s face melted into a smile. 

“I mean, of course people grieve in different ways and just because I don’t understand what they’re getting out of it doesn’t mean they shouldn’t. I’m sorry.” She murmured.

Fitz had no idea why she was apologising. 

“No, it’s okay. I get it. It all seems a bit pointless doesn’t it?” Fitz replied.

“Yeah I think that’s it. That’s why it got me. The pointlessness of it all. I mean, everyone kept talking about what a good person he was. How full of life, what a devoted son, all that stuff, and I mean I get it. But that’s not what he was actually like, was he?” Jemma asked with a small sigh.

“No. No it wasn’t. He was insecure. Obsessed with being liked. I know, pot, kettle, but uh…” Fitz trailed off. 

Fitz gazed at her for a moment. He felt a tug deep in his stomach. He wished, more than anything in the world, that she could be here. Properly.

“I miss you.” He said.

“I miss you too Fitz.” She replied.

Fitz felt that pull again, the desire to be close to her. To be near her. He wondered when he’d begun feeling it. It may have been just now, but Fitz suspected longer. Years probably. He wondered if it would ever go away again. He guessed not. 

They spoke for a little while after that, until Jemma had to leave to go to a class. He hated saying goodbye to her, especially now. But she had to go. Fitz closed his laptop with a sigh. He really was exhausted. His eyes found his bed. He’d told Gillian about how much time he was spending there. She’d encouraged him to diversify his routine a bit. Eat at his desk, instead of on his bed, for example. Bed, whilst it was this safe space, needed to be reinstated as a place for sleeping, not for living. But he wanted to take a nap. That was sleeping, he reasoned. He toed off his shoes and crawled in under the covers. That comforting sense of safety enveloped him again. It was almost like a drug. But he needed to learn to live without it. The sleep he fell into was easy. His mind was not plagued by strange and stressful dreams. His head did not feel heavy when he awoke. The sense of dread that lined the pit of his stomach whenever he contemplated getting up still remained. Not everything would be fixed in a day, he realised. Recovery might feel slow, Gillian had said. Fitz slumped himself back into his pillows and rubbed at his eyes. He looked forward to the day where he could feel that sense of normality again. It was all he wanted really. To feel normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. It's a lot. 
> 
> I included that quote from the book at the beginning of the chapter because it just stuck out to me so much when I was reading it. How beautiful a sentiment is it? It has been a particularly helpful one to me this year and I just love it to bits. I'm an optimist, and I try and find the good in everything really, even when I'm feeling a bit low, and so that quote just absolutely stuck out to me and it just felt so perfect to put it in with this chapter here. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and I will see you all next time for the PENULTIMATE chapter! Can you believe it?! 
> 
> Skye :)


	11. Help.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz and Jemma grow closer again. Fitz helps Jemma when she needs him most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Specific Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Explicit Sexual Content, Mention of anti-depressants, Mention of past abusive relationship, Mention of emotional abuse, Mention of domestic abuse, Blood, Minor injury, Mention of anxiety and depression and Mention of BDSM proclivities
> 
> The penultimate chapter. Can you believe we’re here? I think this is actually the first chapter of this fic written almost exclusively after midnight. Work has been ramping up a bit (the joys of retail at Christmas) and it has been about the only time I have been able to write. I am actually SUPER DUPER nervous about this chapter. Out of almost all of them, I think this is the one that is most out of my comfort zone, which, it is always good to challenge yourself, but I can only hope I’ve done the thing justice. But I will cease my normal ramblings and let you get to reading!

**August.**

Fitz popped the pills out of their foil packet and downed them with a glass of water. This was just part of his routine now. They’d taken a while to work, which had been frustrating. He’d been warned about that, but it hadn’t been easy all the same. But they helped. And that could only be a good thing. He had a good routine now. Get up, do exercises, have a shower, take his medication, eat breakfast, go to the lab or to the library. Gillian had said a routine, even a loose one, would help. And it had. He could do push ups now, well into double digits, and he was proud of himself. He slung his bag over his shoulder and headed to the library. It was fairly quiet there now. Most people were home for the summer, but it meant that he could spread all his stuff out across the desks and that he didn’t mind at all. 

Much to his surprise Dr Radcliffe had emailed him again at the end of last semester, repeating his offer to look at some of Fitz’s designs. He’d been hesitant, after last time, but he was beginning to feel more confident in himself now. He’d been spending a lot of his time in the library, drafting design after design, and in the lab, fiddling and creating. Jemma had been helping him, and hopefully, by the end of the summer, he would have not only a design to send to Radcliffe, but a small army of working drone prototypes. He was so close. 

Part of his last year of undergrad was an internship, at some engineering firm. The idea was to get some work experience, and an idea for an end of year project, his dissertation. Radcliffe’s contacts were to die for. He knew everyone who was everyone in the scientific community. In the very back of his mind, Fitz hoped that if Radcliffe liked what he saw, he might recommend him to one of those nice, big firms, like Stark, or Shield. It was too much to hope for, but still, he could hope. 

Fitz packed up his stuff at the end of the day with a smile. He was going home tomorrow. Jemma was home. She’d been back for a couple of months now, spending her summer in Glasgow, before coming back down in a few weeks for the start of the new semester. He was really looking forward to seeing her. They’d spent a lot of time together this summer, figuring out how to be friends really. Fitz always felt better around her anyhow. She was as good as any anti-depressant. 

The drive up to Glasgow was always filled with happy anticipation and this time was no different. He’d get there late tonight, but he had plans with Jemma tomorrow. He grinned even at the mere thought. 

He picked her up at the end of her driveway, as normal and they chatted happily as Fitz drove. Jemma had requested the beach, and Fitz had agreed wholeheartedly. It was the same beach that they used to come to when they’d been seeing each other in high school. It was still quiet, the dullness of the day keeping people away. Somehow, unspokenly, it had become their place. Jemma had pulled off her shoes, and nodded, with a smile for Fitz to do the same, before taking his hand and pulling him into the shallows. They talked about everything really, when they were together. Jemma’s half brother had been bothering her again, so today he was their subject of conversation.

“He’ll say things like ‘You think I’m such a horrible person.’” Jemma said.

She’d gotten a lot better about telling him things like this. Ever since Italy, it was as if she didn’t feel like she needed to hide it anymore.

“‘I try to be nice to you and all you do is throw it back at me.’” She continued.

“A-and does he?” Fitz asked.

“What?” 

“Try to be nice to you?” Fitz clarified.

He wasn’t sure he needed to ask, he knew the answer already. But perhaps, he thought, Jemma needed to realise it for herself. She shook her head.

“No.” 

Jemma looked at him for a moment, and Fitz watched a small smile form on her face.

“What?” He asked.

Jemma toed at some sand under the water.

“Nothing!” She insisted quickly.

Fitz didn’t believe her.

“Do you know how often you’ve been back here since I came home?” Jemma asked, looking back up at him.

He knew it exactly. 

“Yeah. Why?” He mumbled. 

A shock of worry went through him. Was he coming home too much? Was he bothering her? No. He let out a long breath from his mouth. Those kinds of thoughts weren’t productive, he told himself. They did not help him figure out what she actually meant. He just needed to let her explain. 

“I don’t know, it’s just… you don’t have to.” Jemma sighed, not looking at him.

Oh.  _ Oh _ . 

“But I want to.” 

It came out before Fitz could really think about it. 

“It’s all I’ve got to look forward to really.” 

Jemma looked suddenly up at him. A small smile formed on her face. It was true. As much as he enjoyed tinkering away in the lab, he’d still much prefer to be spending time with her. Fitz watched as the smile spread into a grin, and without warning, Jemma kicked her foot up, soaking him, a loud giggle erupting from her mouth, before bolting away from him. He followed the sound of her laughter gleefully, the splash of the shallows soaking the bottom of his carefully rolled up trousers even more. But he couldn’t really bring himself to care. 

Somehow, Jemma had convinced him to come out with her that night. She had insisted that it would be fun. He had grumped about it, but she had smiled, and goaded him, and really, when it came to Jemma, he was an easy burst. And that was how he’d found himself in the one terrible club they had in town, music thrumming so loudly he could feel it in his bones. He wasn’t a good dancer, but when everyone around you was drunk beyond belief, it didn’t really matter. He’d had a couple of beers, so he wasn’t sober, but he was not half as drunk as ninety percent of the people around him. Jemma was close. Very close. People kept moving closer, forcing them gradually together. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so near her, that he could count the freckles on her nose, could see the flecks of gold in her eyes. His eyes flitted briefly to her lips. He wondered. And suddenly his head started spinning. It seemed to come from nowhere, a disorientation that had nothing to do with alcohol. He needed to get out. He tried to shout at Jemma but it was useless. He made some meaningless gestures, and made for the exit. The fresh air hit his lungs and he gulped it down, bracing himself against a wall. His head was still spinning. Perhaps this had been a mistake. Perhaps he hadn’t been ready for this yet. He took a few more breaths in and leaned his head against the wall. He felt the bouncers eyes on him. Probably thought he was going to be sick. If only it were that easy to feel better, he thought. Fitz didn’t know how long he’d been outside, only that it had been a long time. He found Jemma easily when he went back inside. She looked concerned. They left not long after that. 

Jemma came round to his the next day. His mum was away at work, so they had the place to themselves. There was an Old Firm match on, which promised either to be exciting, or entirely predictable. Jemma lay on his bed behind him, whilst he sat on the floor, his eyes following the players on screen. It felt very comfortable somehow, even after what had happened last night. Being around Jemma, it made him feel calm somehow. He was always at ease, he didn’t feel like he needed to force conversation. They could just exist in each other’s company and it was entirely okay. His eyes flitted back to Jemma every now and again. She looked like she was watching the match, but Fitz knew she wasn’t really paying attention. He turned back to look at her again, and her eyes were closed. 

“You falling asleep?” He asked softly

Jemma opened her eyes gently.

“No.” She replied. 

Fitz didn’t entirely believe her. Jemma had never expressed much interest in football. But that didn’t matter.

“I-I can run you home at half time if you like? I-if you’re bored?” Fitz offered.

“Am I in your way?” She asked quietly.

Fitz felt his breath catch. 

“N-no Jemma. Never. Y-you just seemed a bit sleepy.” 

He’d turned to look at her now. Their eyes fell together, as they had done so many times over the years. It was so familiar, and yet as simultaneously exhilarating and comforting as the first time. She was close again. So close. And then she shifted onto her back, and the sound of the commentator reminded Fitz of the match, and he turned back to the screen.

“Where did you disappear to last night?” Jemma asked after a moment. 

Fitz felt something in his chest tighten. 

“I-I just, uh, I just needed some air.” He stammered.

That was all she needed to know really. He didn’t particularly want to get into why. He hadn’t wanted to examine that himself yet. Jemma seemed to accept that answer and went quiet again. Fitz was grateful. Now was not the time to examine those particular feelings. He got the feeling that if he did, he would unravel entirely. He could not take rejection, not now. 

“I’m quite warm. I-is it hot in here or is it just me?” 

Her voice sounded from behind him again. Good. Fitz was glad it wasn’t just him that had felt an increase in the temperature. 

“A-a bit. You can open the window if you like.” Fitz offered. 

He tried to focus himself back on the match, but he was finding it increasingly difficult. Jemma appeared in the corner of his vision, pushing open the window. The match hadn’t been that exciting. Fitz just wanted something to pull his attention away from the slowly increasing tension in the room. He heard the window thud open, and felt a gentle breeze coming in, dancing across his face. The jingle of the ice cream van played in the distance. 

“Did you see Harry last night? I ran into him, and he said he was looking for you?” Fitz asked, trying to distract himself.

Harry had found him when he’d been at the bar, before it had happened. He’d been curious about what he’d want to speak to he for. 

“Y-yeah. He found me. It was a bit odd actually.” Jemma mused.

Fitz turned to look at her, his brow furrowed. 

“He wanted to apologise to me, for how he acted towards me in high school.” Jemma explained.

Fitz was taken aback. He hadn’t expected that. 

“R-really?! Did you accept it?” 

Jemma gave him a small smile.

“Course. Not really one for grudges am I?” She smiled.

Fitz let out a small laugh.

“Luckily for me.” 

It came out before he could stop it. He looked at her, hoping it hadn’t been the wrong thing to say. He waited for her eyebrows to furrow, for her face to tell him, in no uncertain terms, that he should have kept his mouth shut. But it didn’t. Jemma’s face retained that somewhat, relaxed quality. The whistle blew for half time on the telly and it seemed to bring Fitz back to reality. The jingle of the ice cream van was getting closer. Without thinking about it much, Fitz got up and began to pull on his shoes. When he straightened up, he saw Jemma looking at him, wide eyed. 

“D’you want an ice lolly?” He asked, nodding his head towards the window.

Jemma looked surprised. 

“Y-yeah. That would be nice.” She stumbled. 

Fitz grinned.

“Right. Be back in a sec!”

He was easily the oldest person there, waiting on the ice cream van. The rest of them were kids that barely came up past his knees, jingling excitedly with long saved up pocket money. He opened his lolly before he got back to the house. Jemma wouldn’t mind. She knew how he was about food of any kind. 

Jemma let out a small laugh when he came back, and tossed her lolly at her. Fitz flopped down on the opposite side of the bed from her, before shoving his own lolly back into his mouth. 

“It was nice that Harry apologised to you.” 

He’d been thinking about it on his way to the van. 

“Yeah.” Jemma replied absently, as she ripped open the plastic packet.

She let out a small sigh as the cool lolly hit her lips. Fitz swallowed hard. 

“People from school have actually been quite nice since I came home. Not that I make much of an effort to see them.” She mused. 

“Maybe you should?” Fitz offered.

Jemma just looked at him for a second.

“Why? Is it terribly ungrateful that I’m basically ignoring them all?” 

“No! No! Of course not.” Fitz assured.

“I just meant, it m-must be kind of lonely.” He finished.

Jemma shot him a look.

“W-when I’m not here I mean.” He stammered.

Jemma just smiled, and Fitz watched as she considered him for a second. 

“I guess I’m used to it.” She shrugged.

“Been lonely my whole life really.”

Fitz felt something in his chest pull. 

“Yeah, yeah I know what you mean.” He mumbled.

Jemma didn’t question him. She just gave a slight nod of her head, and Fitz knew she understood him. It was nice to have that again, that person who just understood him, no questions asked, 

“You weren’t lonely when you were with Sarah were you?” Jemma asked curiously.

Fitz could tell she was genuinely curious too. She didn’t have any ulterior motive. She just wanted to know, to understand. 

“Uhm, I don’t know. Sometimes. D-didn’t feel totally myself around her.” Fitz admitted.

It was true. He liked how he’d felt around Sarah. Like a normal person, in a normal relationship. Whatever “normal” meant. Jemma shifted back and lay down on the bed, her feet curled up next to his. Something about it made Fitz’s breath catch in his throat. 

“Fitz?” Jemma 

“Mmmh.” Fitz replied through a mouthful of ice lolly. 

“You-You know when we were dancing last night?” 

Fitz felt himself go very hot, and very cold in impossibly quick succession. 

“Y-yeah?” Fitz faltered. 

“Did I do something to annoy you?” Jemma asked softly.

Fitz felt that all too familiar pull in his chest again.

“W-what? No! No of course not!” Fitz insisted

“W-why would you ask that?” 

Jemma let out a long sigh. 

“Well, when you walked away and left me there on my own, it was, it was a bit awkward. Well, that’s what it felt like. I thought maybe you were annoyed with me.” She rushed out. 

“I’m-I’m sorry. I wasn’t. Not at all.” Fitz assured. 

Jemma didn’t say anything. Fitz watched as she pulled her lolly through her lips, before shifting, placing it on its plastic packet on the floor. It was almost obscene. Fitz felt as if a small rock had lodged itself into his throat. 

“I-uh, I feel, like, uh, our friendship would m-maybe be easier if uh, s-some things were different.” Fitz stammered. 

He watched her swallow. He knew he wasn’t explaining himself well. 

“If what was different Fitz?” She asked, looking determinedly at the ceiling.

Her voice was so quiet. It was awful.

“I-I don’t know. It’s just- t-things might be a lot less confusing if-if there wasn’t this other,  _ element _ to our relationship.”

Fitz watched for her reaction, hoping she understood. He didn’t want to have to say it. Jemma gave a small nod and Fitz let out a long breath. 

“When we were together, in first year, were you lonely then?” Jemma asked quietly.

“No.”

He didn’t even need to think about it.

“Me either.” Jemma sighed. 

“I was frustrated at times, but not lonely. I’m never lonely when I’m with you.”

Fitz felt his stomach flip at her words. No one else had ever had this effect on him. Only her. Only Jemma. 

“Yeah. T-that was kind of a perfect time in my life, if I’m being honest. I-I don’t think I was ever really happy before then.” He admitted. 

He was being honest. When he thought about that time in first year, with Jemma, the memories just seemed to contain these precious moments of happiness. Fitz found himself thinking about them a lot, wishing he could go back, live in those perfect little moments for the rest of his life. He’d be perfectly content with that. Jemma seemed to steel herself. Her eyes closed for a second, before fluttering open, and Fitz watched and she slowly worked her jaw. 

“I really wanted you to kiss me last night.” She said, her voice barely audible.

Fitz’s stomach seemed to fall out of his body. God, he’d wanted that too, but he’d thought… He didn’t think she would want… Not now, not after everything. The lolly in his hand seemed to shake. 

“I wanted to kiss you too. W-we must have misunderstood each other.” Fitz stammered.

Jemma let out a small chuckle.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” 

“No. No it wouldn’t.” 

Jemma was still staring at the ceiling. 

“I-uh, I don’t really know what the best thing to do is, Jemma. It is so nice to h-hear you say that, but we’ve been here before. I don’t think I could bear to lose you again Jemma. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to muck that up. N-not for anything.” Fitz rambled. 

She closed her eyes again. Maybe he should have just stayed quiet. 

“I know what you mean.” 

Jemma’s voice was deathly quiet again. 

“But I uh, I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate you or anything. You have been so amazing these past few months, w-with the depression and anxiety and everything, and I don’t want to labour on that too much, but you have been so supportive and you have helped so much. More than you realise I think.” 

“You don’t owe me anything Fitz.” 

Her voice was filled with such sadness. All he wanted to do was to tear it out. He couldn’t stand that that was how she felt. She deserved so much better. 

“I-I know that, that’s uh, not what I meant…” Fitz started.

Jemma got up and Fitz started. He tossed the rest of his lolly in some empty glass on his bedside table, and reached for her but she moved away too quickly. He didn’t want to try again.

“I-I’m getting anxious now, I’m-I’m sorry. I’m not rejecting you or anything Jemma I just-”

“Don’t be anxious. Everything’s fine.” She said.

Everything was clearly not fine. He knew her too well to believe that now. 

“Think I’ll just head home now if that’s alright.” Jemma said, getting up off the bed, not looking at him.

She started looking for her shoes and Fitz felt his heart wrenching. 

“I can give you a run if you want?” 

Fitz had no idea why he offered. It just felt the right thing to say. 

“No. I’ll walk. Don’t want to miss the second half.” Jemma replied, nodding at the TV.

The commentators were wrapping up and getting ready to return to the game now. Fitz blinked at the screen for a moment in disbelief. Had that really been on this whole time?

“I-uh I forgot there was a game on to be honest.” He stuttered.

Jemma just looked at him. 

“Well then, bye.” She said quietly.

But she made no move to leave. Their eyes locked together in that familiar way. Fitz felt his heart pounding in his chest. Blindly, he reached out, and grazed her hands with his. She let him take it, and he wound their fingers carefully together. Carefully he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently.

“That’s nice.” Jemma breathed. 

Fitz’s eyes found hers again, and he was lost.

“I’m just really nervous Jemma. I-I think it’s pretty obvious that I really don’t want you to leave.” He said, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I don’t think it is Fitz. Obvious.” Jemma clarified.

He pulled himself up off the bed to stand next to her. He would show her. Let her know. Their hands were still intertwined, and Fitz gave her hand a small squeeze in his, as he edged closer to her. The only time their eyes left each others, was to flit down to the others lips. Fitz brought his free hand up to her, coming up to graze gently at her waist. This time, Fitz knew it was him that pressed forward first, who caught her lips between his own. Instantly, Jemma kissed back, and his heart seemed to soar. Fitz’s hand became bolder, curling around her waist and pulling her closer. The slide of her lips against his made his head spin, even after all this time. The world became Jemma. She was in every one of his senses. He felt her hand pulling gently free from his, and coming up and tangling through the curls at the base of his neck. Her touch seemed to set him alight. How had he gone so long without this? How had any other kind of life ever existed outside of this. It was the kind of intensity that made Fitz feel as if he should be going weak at the knees, but he didn’t. He clung to her as if she were the only thing left on earth. 

“I’ve wanted this so much.” Jemma breathed as they gently broke apart. 

Fitz felt as if he were aglow. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt so incredibly, blissfully happy. He pressed a gentle kiss against her lips, before pulling back again.

“It’s so good to hear you say that Jemma.” 

His voice was low, and husky. He hadn’t heard it like that for a long time. The sound of a whistle seemed to pervade into his state of nirvana, and he remembered that the telly was still on, the match was still going. Fuck the match, he thought. This was far more important. Jemma was far more important. He pulled carefully away from her, keeping one reassuring hand on her waist, and pushed the button on the side of the telly, banishing the match from the room. Fitz did not hesitate in pulling Jemma back towards him, and capturing her lips with his own again. Jemma pulled him down and they ended up on the bed, tangled up in each other. Jemma pulled away, just for a second and gave him a small smile. Fitz felt as if he could burst. When she pulled him back down again, it was into a far more passionate kiss, her tongue toying at the seam of his mouth, asking for permission to enter. Their hands began to roam over each other, and the feel of her bare skin under her shirt was like absolutely nothing else. Jemma pulled him down again, until they were both flat out on his little single bed. Fitz trailed his lips over her jaw and down her throat, determined to worship every little inch of her. But Jemma had other plans. She brought him back up to her face, and met him in a heady kiss. 

“I have missed you so much.” Fitz breathed as they broke apart. 

“It’s not like this with other people.” Jemma uttered, her hands caressing his face.

Her fingers trailed along the stubble that he had started to grow out. 

“I like you so much more than other people.” Fitz agreed before leaning back down to kiss her again. 

This time, his fingers found the seam of her shirt, and he began pulling up. It was not long before he felt Jemma’s hands next to his, helping. The top was flung god knows where, and Jemma swiftly began pulling at his shirt. It too was thrown into the abyss of Fitz’s room, and Fitz captured Jemma’s lips in one last kiss before pushing away, and standing up to shove off his shoes. His hands faltered for a second when he reached for the waistband of his jeans, and his breath caught in his throat. They were really doing this again. He almost couldn’t believe it. It had been so long. He turned around and saw Jemma pulling her bra down her shoulders, and any hesitations he had flew out of his mind. Clearly, she wanted this too. Without further hesitation Fitz pushed his trousers down, along with his boxers, and turned to face Jemma again. And there she was, lying face down, completely nude on his bed. It was like something out of a dream. Fitz had to stop himself from pinching his arm, just to make sure. He sat back down on the bed, and ran his finger down the line of her spine. The noise she was was unearthly. The most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. Then he remembered.

“Jemma, I uh, I actually don’t have anything…” he trailed. 

It was over before it had even begun. But much to his surprise, Jemma seemed undeterred. 

“It’s fine. Still on the pill.” She breathed.

Fitz had to bite back a small laugh. Of course. Jemma Simmons was always prepared, no matter the situation. His hand continued to dance up and down the line of her back. Jemma’s eyes were closed, seemingly relishing in his touch. 

“D-do you want it like this?” Fitz asked tentatively.

He wouldn’t exactly say he’d been particularly creative in his sex life, with Jemma or with Sarah, but this position was new to him and a small flash of anxiety flew through his stomach at the thought. But then the lust addled part of his mind seemed to take over, and all was well again. 

“Y-yeah.” Jemma gasped. 

It was the most ridiculously seductive noise Fitz had ever heard.

“However you want.” 

He wasn’t about to argue with that. Fitz clambered onto the bed, hovering over her, trying not to crush her. But then his anxiety decided to rear its ugly head again.

“I-I-uh, I haven’t done this in a while, so uh…” He started.

“It’s okay. Me either.” Jemma breathed, her voice heavy.

The sound of it made Fitz groan. It was almost too much. He leaned down and pressed a kiss at the nape of her neck, before littering them down her back, all the way down to her bum. It was heavenly, getting to worship her like this again, being allowed to touch her, to love her like this. But then Jemma arched her back with a whine, and Fitz knew exactly what it was that she wanted. He took his cock into his hand, and eased slowly into her. His vision seemed to go fuzzy at the sides. It was so incredibly overwhelming, being inside of her again, being the one to illicit the truly divine noises coming from her mouth. Fitz knew that he wasn’t that much bigger than Jemma, but in this position he felt huge. Dominant. He wasn’t sure how much he liked it. But then another gorgeous gasp came from Jemma as he thrust into her, and all his worries were calmed. He mouthed at her neck, pressing the occasional kiss there as he slowly, languidly, thrust in and out of her, Jemma arching her back, bringing her hips up to meet him thrust for thrust. Her hand came back to grab at his arse, pulling him deeper. The groans they let out were simultaneous, as Fitz angled his hips up, sinking himself further into her. 

“Jemma.” He gasped out.

He truly did not know how he was capable of words at this point. 

“C-can we keep doing this? W-whilst I’m home?” 

For some reason, at that moment, he could not clearly justify it but, he needed that reassurance. 

“Whenever you want.” Jemma gasped out. 

“R-really?” He groaned. 

He could not take this all in. 

“You can do whatever you want with me.” Jemma keened out. 

It was too much. He couldn’t not fathom it. Some stupid inner part of his roared at her words. 

“God this is nice.” Fitz moaned.

It was, despite his initial hesitations, this was really really good.

“Did you like hearing me say that?” Jemma gasped.

“Yeah, so much Jemma.” Fitz admitted.

He latched his lips onto her neck and sucked. The whine he got in response seemed to awaken something truly primal in him and his thrusts became harder. The thud of his headboard seemed as if it was a million miles away. 

“Will you tell me I belong to you?” Jemma asked, as Fitz’s mouth found her ear, pressing kisses at the back, nipping gently at the skin.

“W-what?” 

He didn’t quite understand. 

“Will you hit me?”

The world seemed to come suddenly, and irrevocably back into extreme and uncomfortable focus. It rushed into his ears, and Fitz felt as if he were drowning. The images of his father hitting his mother seemed to flash before his eyes again. They were all too easily replaced with himself and Jemma. He stopped moving. He knew it was sudden. But he had to stop. She’d sounded almost like a child when she’d asked. Fitz couldn’t even bear the thought.

“No Jemma. N-Never.” He stammered. 

He felt her freeze underneath him. He pushed up and away from her. This was all too much. Jemma didn’t move. 

“D-do you want to stop?” He asked.

He couldn’t help the shake in his voice. Jemma nodded. Fitz’s heart seemed to stop. He pulled fully out, and away from her. Jemma just lay there. His entire body seemed to ache. 

“A-are you okay?” Fitz stammered. 

She didn’t move. He didn’t know what to do. He felt utterly, beyond useless.

“I-I just, I wouldn’t feel c-comfortable doing that to you, Jemma. I-I don’t think I could. It just would feel weird- uh no not weird, no, it uh just wouldn’t feel r-right.” He stammered. 

Still she did not move. 

“You think I’m weird.” 

Jemma’s word’s were barely audible, but they made Fitz want to cry. He’d hurt her. He couldn’t stand even the thought of that. Not now. Not again. 

“No! No Jemma of course not, I-I-I just, don’t want things to be weird between us.” 

He shouldn’t have said it again. He knew it the moment he said it. Fitz’s heart seemed to wrench as Jemma slowly turned her head down to face the covers. It seemed to stop beating altogether when he heard her let out a long, low sigh. And suddenly she was moving, grabbing her clothes from the floor, and pulling them haphazardly on. 

“I think I’ll just go home now.” She mumbled, pulling her bra straps up her arms.

Fitz could only nod.

“L-let me at least drive you.” He offered, getting up and grabbing his own clothes off the floor.

It was almost as if they were having some kind of ridiculous race over who could get dressed the quickest. 

“N-no. I’d rather walk.” Jemma replied, not looking at him, pulling furiously at her skirt. 

Fitz yanked his shirt over his head, scrambling for his trousers. But he was too late. Jemma bolted from the room, slamming the door behind her. Fitz had barely done the button up on his jeans, but he ran after her. It was useless, by the time he got to the top of the stairs, he heard the sound of the front door slamming. It was too late. He couldn’t make a scene in the street. The world seemed to stop. Fitz had no idea how long he stood there. There was no recovering from this. He could not fathom a single way in which his relationship with Jemma could come back from this. Eventually, he let go from where his hands gripped the bannister, and turned back into his room. The glass with his now very melted ice lolly in it still sat on his bedside table. In utter blind rage, he swiped at it, sending it flying across the very small room, before throwing himself down onto his bed. It was devastating. He might never see her again after this. He’d fucked this up again. The universe seemed to be telling him to stop trying. The tears came hot and thick and fast. He couldn’t help them. He bawled his fists in his eyes. He could not do this again. Three times was enough. He thought a fourth might actually kill him.

He lay on his bed awhile, letting the all too familiar numbness float through his body, making his limbs go heavy, impossible to move. Eventually his stomach grumbled in rebellion. Reluctantly he got up. It was dark now. He had no idea what time it was, nor how much time had actually passed since Jemma had left. His eyes scanned the contents of the fridge meaninglessly. A four pack of beer sat on the bottom shelf. Might take the edge off, he reasoned, as he pulled a can from the pack. He toyed with it for a while, unsure. But really, he wasn’t sure he’d want to stop once he started. Fitz’s fingers played with the ring pull, feeling the cold metal under his skin. It all just felt so meaningless. Images of his father seemed to roll through his mind again. He was always shouting. Telling him he was useless, telling him he wasn’t good enough or smart enough, how could he be proud of a son like him? The image in his mind’s eye of a can of beer in his father’s hand seemed to settle it. He cracked the can open, and made his way over to the sink, dumping the whole thing out. If there was one thing that Fitz knew he wanted out of his life, it was to be a better man that his father had been. Fitz crushed the can in his hand and threw it in the bin, resolving to just make himself some toast, and go to bed. Before he could move, before he could even think really, he was disturbed by the gentle buzz of his phone from where he’d left it on the kitchen table. He really did not feel like speaking to anyone at the moment. Wandering over and looking at the screen, out of pure curiosity more than anything, he looked down and was shocked to see Jemma’s name lighting up his screen. Fitz scrabbled for the phone, before answering the call.

“J-Jemma?” He stammered.

“Y-yeah. Hey.” Jemma replied.

She sounded funny. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Fitz’s heart pounded in his chest.

“A-are you okay?” 

“I’m-I’m so sorry to call you like this, I-uh, I feel like an idiot.” 

Oh. Jemma’s ability to get straight to the point never failed to impress him.

“Jemma, a-about earlier…” Fitz started.

“No, no, it’s not that. I feel really stupid.” Jemma interjected.

There was definitely something different about her voice. As if she had a cold or something. Fitz desperately tried to remember how she’d sounded earlier. She could not have developed a severe cold in a matter of hours. Fitz’s blood seemed suddenly to run to ice. Something was wrong.

“I-I tripped, o-or something and I’ve hurt myself. I’m sorry to call you. I-it’s nothing really. I-I just I don’t know what to do.” She finished.

Fitz felt himself begin to shake. She was upset. There’s something she wasn’t telling him. He knew it. She never got flustered like this.

“Where are you?” He asked quickly, making his mind up on the spot.

He was determined.

“At home. It’s not serious, it just, it just hurts.” She replied, her voice noticeably shaking now.

Fitz was moving towards the door before she’d even finished speaking. 

“I’m on my way. I’m getting in the car right now.” He said without hesitating.

He grabbed his keys from the hook by the front door and blindly headed for the car. 

“I’ll be there as soon as I can? Okay?”

“Okay.” 

Fitz hung up and shoved his phone into his pocket, unlocking the car. Everything seemed to come automatically. The turn of the keys, hitting the off-button of the radio, driving the route to Jemma’s house. When he pulled up, he wasn’t sure he could actually remember driving there at all. He just was there. Not bothering to lock the doors, he jumped out and all but ran for that sickeningly pristine white front door, slamming the doorbell as soon as it was in reach. He heard footsteps, and suddenly Jemma appeared, clutching at her face. He got a better look at her as she opened the door, and he felt sick. Blood had poured down her face, apparently from her nose, over her hand, all the way down her arm, and down onto her shirt. 

“What’s happened? W-why have you got blood down you?” Fitz asked frantically. 

“I think, no I know, my nose is broken.” Jemma whispered, still clutching a wad of toilet paper to her face.

She shifted the wad slightly to let him see, and Fitz felt his stomach churning. It was already turning black and blue, her eyes were wide and bloodshot, tears dripping down her face. A noise from the end of the hallway pulled his focus away from her for the first time. Fitz took a moment to take in the scene before him. There was green glass shattered on the floor, and the tall figure of Jemma’s half brother, Grant, loomed at the end of the hallway. It did not take Fitz long to put together the pieces. Anger, like he’d never felt before in his life, seemed to rise in him. 

“Was it him?” He asked, his voice low.

Jemma’s eyes filled, and she gave him the smallest of nods. His whole head seemed to spin for a moment. 

“Get in the car Jemma.” He whispered to her, pushing the keys into her palm.

For a second she just looked at him.

“Go.” He urged, pressing the keys on her.

He watched as her eyes flitted from her brother to him, before her hand closed around the keys, and she darted out of the door. Fitz made sure she got safely into the car before closing the door and turning around. Ward stared at him from the end of the hallway. He was about twice the size of him, and on a normal day, Fitz would have been too intimidated by his mere shadow to even think about doing anything to him. But this was no ordinary day. 

“What’s going on here? I didn’t do anything.” Ward drawled, as Fitz got closer.

Fitz felt the glass crunch under his feet but he did not care. White hot rage seemed to be burning through him. He grabbed Ward by the scruff of his shirt and pinned him against the nearest wall. He was glad for those push ups now. He held him easily, but he suspected that he’d caught him by surprise.

“If you ever touch Jemma again, I’ll fucking kill you.” 

His voice was deadly quiet. Ward did not move. He did not even squirm. He did not even look Fitz in the eye. Coward.

“If you ever say a bad word to her ever again, I will come back here and I will fucking kill you. You understand?” 

Ward squirmed.

“You understand me?!” Fitz shouted. 

“I understand you.” Ward replied through gritted teeth.

“Good.” Fitz spat at him.

He shoved him back against the wall, before letting him go, turning and heading for the door, slamming it hard behind him. 

Jemma looked at him wide eyed as he got into the car. Tears were still streaming down her face.

“I’m sorry to bother you. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do.” She said quietly, staring down at her lap.

Fitz felt his whole being wrench. 

“No. No, Jemma. Don’t say sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s good that you called me.” Fitz assured her. 

She was still staring down at her lap with such heartbreaking agony and sadness, it made Fitz wish he could go back in there and punch Grant Ward for real. But he wasn’t sure that was a fight he would win. 

“Jemma, look at me for a second.” He whispered.

Jemma turned her face slowly, and Fitz took a shuddering breath in. It was almost physically painful to see her like this. 

“No one is ever going to hurt you like that again. Everything is going to be alright, okay? Trust me. Because I love you, god, Jemma I love you so much, and I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you ever again.” 

His voice was soft, but confident. He’d never been so sure of anything in his entire life. A sob escaped Jemma’s lips at his words.

“Thank you.” She breathed. 

All he could do was nod, turn the car keys, and put the car into gear.

Jemma’s hand closed over his on the gearstick as they drove along the long winding country road away from her house. A warmth spread up Fitz’s arm. They’d be okay. They would. He would make sure of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is so hard to write a scene of two people eating ice lollies and not have it sound absolutely and utterly filthy. Genuinely was laughing at myself trying to find words and synonyms for sucking and licking without it sounding absolutely obscene. ANYWAY.  
> I really truly cannot believe that this fic is wrapping up. It has been such a journey writing it. I will save all of my big gushy nonsense for next time, but for now please know how grateful I am for the continued support and love that you have all been giving this fic. It has truly been inspiring and has genuinely helped me to push on and keep going, to keep writing. So thank you all. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I will see you soon, for the very last one.
> 
> Skye :)


	12. End.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are better than ever for Fitz and Jemma. An unexpected offer opens up a new road for Fitz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I cried basically the entire time I wrote this. Just a long stream of tears coming out of my face for two straight days. I cannot believe it. I cannot believe it’s finished. I cannot believe I did it. 80,000 words. I have never written anything this long before in my entire life. This fic. Man this fic has meant so much to me. The emotions and storylines were already pretty close to my heart before I started writing it, but this fic has just meant so much to me. It was my escape when life took a really awful turn. It let me escape into this other world for a bit and for that I cannot help but be forever grateful. I also proved to myself that I can do this. I can write. I can write something this long, and this packed full of emotions. I basically wrote a novel in three months. Like what the fuck? I can do this. That has honestly been one of the most stunning realisations I have had during this writing process. I can do this. 
> 
> I also have to say, the support, the comments, the kind words about this fic has honestly been incredible and humbling. Thank you. You lot are the reason I kept going and why I kept writing this. It has honestly been a journey and I really don’t know how I did it. Your support has meant the utter world and beyond. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you. It was because of your love that this fic even became what it was in the first place. Your enthusiasm and your love encouraged me to not just leave this as a oneshot as I had originally planned, but to continue on and do the whole damn thing. I knew it was going to be a lot when I made that decision, but reading your reactions to every chapter really has kept me going and writing, so thank you. You all really owe this fic to yourselves. Without you, this would probably still just be a oneshot. 
> 
> Anyway, I will finish with my gushing. Please enjoy the last chapter. I have loved writing this fic, and I hope you all enjoy its conclusion.

“I looked over your designs last night.” Jemma said casually. 

They were driving back from the supermarket, and so Fitz couldn’t whip his head round to her as he normally might. 

“They’re brilliant Fitz. Beyond brilliant. Your eye for detail is absolutely spectacular. Every little line, every tiny little thing is so well thought out. They’re actually quite beautiful. It was as if I could see you drawing them in my head as I looked over them. Like, I could see into your head as you were sketching it all out. The world that must live in your head…” She mused.

Fitz felt himself go red, but he couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his face. 

“I’m fairly jealous.” Jemma finished with a sigh. 

Fitz’s cheeks burned a deeper shade of red. He was still learning to accept praise, to not immediately reject it or dismiss it. It had not been easy. But he was learning.

“Thank you. For looking at them.” Fitz mumbled quietly. 

It still felt odd, accepting praise at face value. It was less strange, simply because it was Jemma. But still, he was not used to it yet. 

“You should send them over to Radcliffe. He liked the last one you sent him.” Jemma suggested. 

The thought made Fitz’s stomach squirm. Dr Radcliffe had loved the drones he’d been working on over the summer. Had been in raptures over the little prototypes. But Fitz had put everything into them. He’d helped Fitz with his internship for this year, as Fitz had never dared dream he’d do. Stark Industries was an incredible place. He commuted back and forth from their workshop just outside of London twice a week. There his little army of miniaturised drones were coming together better than he ever could have dared hope. And they were paying him. Paying him to tinker about and to do what he loved. It was almost unfathomable. He liked this new design. He knew it was good, at least better than most of his early stuff. But showing it to Radcliffe, to someone who actually had the power to do something about it, to help make it reality, felt, overwhelming.

“I don’t know.” He wavered. 

He could feel Jemma’s eyes on him. 

“I don’t know if it’s good enough.” He elaborated. 

Jemma’s gaze grew heavier. 

“Fitz. It’s brilliant. Send it to him. He’ll love it.” 

She was so certain. It seemed to leak over to him. Filled him with a confidence and certainty, as he’d never felt before. Fitz felt the smile on his face widen. He’d been doing that a lot recently. Smiling. 

Before he could even blink, it was Jemma’s birthday, and they were all sat in a restaurant singing happy birthday to her at the top of their lungs. Hunter even stood up when the waiter brought the cake over, but was quickly pulled back down again by the tail of his shirt by Bobbi. Jemma was red-faced and slightly embarrassed, but smiling. Smiling as Fitz had never seen her smile before. It made him so incredibly and monumentally happy to see her like this. Because she deserved it. She so deserved every single second of happiness this world could give her. Jemma could hardly even blow her candles out, her smile was so big. Daisy shouted “Make a wish!”, and automatically, without even thinking, Jemma’s eyes found his. Cake was soon dished out, Jemma giving Fitz a knowing smile as she passed him a particularly generous piece.

“This looks  _ amazing _ ! I cannot believe you made this Daisy.” Bobbi grinned as she stuck her fork into her slice. 

“Thanks! It was the most perfect distraction from the actual mountain of work I have to do for class next week.” Daisy groaned.

Jemma just looked at her with a mock disapproving smile, to which Daisy just stuck out her tongue, before shoving a piece of cake into her mouth. 

“It was very sweet of you! Totally unnecessary for you to go out of your way!” Jemma lightly chastised. 

“What?! Shut up Jemma, you _have_ to have a cake! It’s your birthday!” Daisy  exclaimed, as though this were the plainest and most basic truth of humanity. 

Jemma just laughed. 

“Did you get good presents Jemma?” Hunter asked through a mouthful of cake. 

“Yes I did, thank you Hunter.” 

“What did you get her Fitz?” Bobbi asked.

Fitz faltered for a second, before reasoning with himself. This was a safe group, a good group of people. They all knew that he and Jemma were together. It was okay, he could share. Jemma gave him a reassuring nod.

“I uh, got her a wee telescope, and a b-book about stargazing.” Fitz stammered. 

Jemma had mentioned a while ago that she’d loved stargazing as a child, but had kind of fallen out of it as she’d gotten older. Fitz had remembered. 

“I love them.” Jemma added assuringly. 

And she did. She’d littered his face with kisses when he’d given her them this morning. The mere memory made Fitz beam. 

“And what about your family? Did they get you anything nice? A sports car or a pony perhaps?” Hunter asked teasingly.

Fitz watched as Jemma froze for a second. They hadn’t told anyone the details of what had happened a few weeks ago. Daisy and Bobbi knew that she wasn’t speaking to her family anymore, but that was it. Fitz was kicking himself for not telling Hunter. He should have known he’d ask a stupid question like that. But then Fitz saw Jemma’s face relax a bit, and the anxious knot that had been twisting in his stomach eased. 

“What are you implying there Hunter?” Daisy laughed. 

“Well I’m merely just going off my own birthday list.” He replied with a cheeky wink.

This got a laugh from the rest of the table. 

“My family don’t really do birthdays.” Jemma said, brushing off the question easily. 

Hunter just nodded in acceptance, before shoving more cake into his mouth. Fitz let out a small sigh of relief. 

“This cake is really fucking good!” Hunter exclaimed, spraying crumbs across the table as he did so. 

Everyone laughed again and the unknown awkwardness dissipated easily. Fitz had been careful not to bring up Jemma’s family today. He hadn’t wanted to upset her, not today. He knew that if she wanted to talk about it, she would bring it up herself. 

Things remained good as they walked home after dinner. Home these days was Fitz’s little studio flat on campus. It had an ensuite and its own little kitchen. It suited them well. Jemma lived with him full time now. They’d discussed it early in the semester, when she said she didn’t want to live in her flat on her own. She didn’t feel comfortable there. Fitz had a double bed and plenty of space. The solution, therefore, was easy. They got ready for bed together, the pair of them crowded around the small sink in the bathroom. It was heartwarmingly domestic, Fitz thought, as they brushed their teeth side by side. Jemma’s phone buzzed on the side of the bath, filling the small room with an odd, ceramic humming noise.

“Birthday message?” Fitz asked, his toothbrush still crowding his mouth. 

Jemma peered down and picked up her phone. Fitz felt her stopping, freezing on the spot. 

“My mother.” She said quietly.

Ah. 

“Not exactly happy birthday.” Jemma huffed out, shoving her phone back on the edge of the sink.

“What did it say?” Fitz asked tentatively.

“‘Send me back the keys to the flat as soon as possible.’” Jemma read. 

Fitz felt rage boiling through his veins. Jemma had told him that her mother had been in the house when her brother had gone after her that night. And she’d done nothing. Had just sat by and let Ward terrorise Jemma. It made him furious. Jemma had had no contact with them both since, only to pick up her stuff from the house. Fitz didn’t blame her in the slightest. 

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly.

Jemma gave him a small, sad smile in the mirror. 

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” She assured him. 

She wasn’t. As much as they were awful, they were still family. She was still her parent. Fitz knew better than anyone how hard it was to sever that connection, to move on from it and to fully realise the damage that person had inflicted on you. Years. He rinsed his toothbrush and placed it back in the glass by the sink, before winding his arm around her and pressing a kiss to forehead. Jemma let out a small contented sigh. It seemed he made her feel better too. 

Fitz loved their life together. It had only been a few weeks, but he was happy. He was more than happy. He was content. And he could sense that Jemma was too. She was more relaxed, she smiled more, laughed more easily and more openly. The most important thing was that they talked. They talked so much. Fitz felt he knew everything about her, and she him. When they both came in in the evenings they would talk about their days, not just what they did or where they went, but how they felt too. It was good. Better than good. Things felt so much easier between them. It was as if they were totally and completely in sync, for the first time ever, and it was blissful. Even their sex life had benefitted from it. It was so good to hear Jemma moan in his ear that she liked something, or encourage him, or suggest something new and delicious. Jemma assured him those feelings went both ways. They’d talked, set boundaries. Fitz had explained, fully and properly this time, why he felt he could not be rough with her, why he could not hit her. It had been one of the most difficult conversations he could ever remember having. It ended with them both in tears, and the comforting reassurance that they would work through anything together, that boundaries were okay, healthy. 

Life went on. And it was good. Commuting back and forth for his internship was tiring, alongside his classes, but Fitz enjoyed it so much. He managed to pack so much into those two days a week. Fitz always made time for Jemma, and she, him. They were both insanely busy this year, but they always carved out time for each other, even if that was sitting quietly together, working in between classes. By November this had become a regular fixture of their week. Fitz was looking over some notes on his laptop for a class one afternoon, Jemma sat next to him, reading some scientific journal, sipping on a cup of tea, when an email popped up that surprised him. It was from Stark Industries. They never emailed him. For some admin things when he’d first started, but never since then. He read it twice, the second time, because he couldn’t quite believe what he was reading.

“Everything okay?” Jemma asked.

She must have noticed the look on his face. 

“Y-yeah. I-I just got this email.” Fitz stammered.

Jemma gave him a confused smile. 

“What does it say?” 

Fitz didn’t know how to say it. He couldn’t fathom it himself. Simple, was probably best here.

“It-it’s from Stark. They want to sponsor me, t-through my masters, but o-onto my PhD if I want.” 

Jemma gaped at him. 

“Oh, Fitz.” She breathed.

“Fitz that’s incredible.” 

Fitz winced. 

“Y-yeah it is. Only thing is they want me in New York. They’d fit me up with one of the uni’s across there, but uhm, they want me to continue my internship in their main offices.” 

He spoke very quickly, as if this would make it less overwhelming. Fitz heard Jemma take in a sharp breath. 

“Fitz. Fitz that’s so incredible. You must have really, really wowed them, for them to offer this, not that I’m surprised, you are utterly brilliant!” Jemma exclaimed. 

She was happy for him, Fitz knew that part was genuine, but he could sense something else underneath it all. It wasn’t jealousy, Jemma wasn’t a jealous person, but a kind of sadness, one that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He knew because he was feeling it too. He knew then. 

“You can see me in New York, can you?” Fitz asked with a sad smile.

Jemma thought about it for a moment. A look struck across her face, and Fitz knew that she had come to a realisation that had surprised her. 

“Yeah. I can.” 

“I can’t.” Fitz quickly interjected, shutting his laptop.

He couldn’t even look at the screen anymore. 

“The whole thing is just making me feel…” He trailed.

His leg started shaking. He was trying to cope, but a million thoughts all seemed to flood his head at once and it was useless trying to stop them. It was a cacophony of thoughts and opinions and it was all too much. 

“Now is not a good time for me to move halfway across the world and live in a city I don’t know, Jemma.” He breathed out, his voice shaking. 

Jemma furrowed her eyebrows. 

“I-I could barely walk down a street in Cambridge six months ago without having a panic attack. Th-that in New York? It just doesn’t compute. It doesn’t work.” He continued.

Jemma reached out and took his hand into hers. The warmth of it, the weight of it, the pure, unadulterated comfort it brough, was immeasurable. 

“Do you have to give them an answer now?” Jemma asked softly. 

Fitz shook his head. 

“N-No. They said for me to think about it and not to rush a decision. But they’d need to know by the end of this May coming at the absolute latest.” He explained, staring down at their conjoined hands. 

“Well then. Put it away for a bit. Let yourself think about it, and get used to the idea. You have time, Fitz. And If you still don’t want to by May, that’s fine.” She assured him gently.

She spoke as if she thought he’d change his mind.

“I’m not going.” He said firmly. 

And he meant it. 

“Okay.” Jemma said with a small smile. 

She squeezed his hand, and he felt better. It would be fine. It would all be fine. 

Time moved quickly, as it always did when you were busy and happy, and somehow December had snuck up on Fitz, appearing out of nowhere. He and Jemma didn’t really talk about Christmas. They’d happily decorated the flat a couple of days ago, wrapping lights and tinsel around every available surface, but as for the day itself, well, Fitz had not wanted to upset her. Fitz knew she was dreading the thought of going home. The solution, as he had found with most things, was actually quite simple.

“Jemma?” He asked one evening. 

They’d finished classes for the semester the day before and had treated themselves to a day of doing nothing, but Jemma, ever the motivated soul she was, had insisted they get up and make their tea. She turned from where she was stood over the stove, and smiled at him. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Her face turned to one of gentle bemusement. 

“Of course.” She smiled, obviously intrigued as to what on earth he was about to say.

Fitz sucked in a long breath. 

“C-Christmas.” He blurted.

“What about it?” Jemma asked, her eyes fixedly on him now. 

“Wouldyouliketocometoours?” Fitz spouted quickly.

“What?!” 

“I was wondering if you would like to come to ours for Christmas. Me and mum.” Fitz repeated, ensuring he took his time. 

Jemma stared at him for a few seconds. Fitz was unsure if she was about to start shouting at him, or crying, or laughing, or some combination of the three. 

“I-I don’t know.” She stammered.

Fitz gave a small smile. He’d caught her off guard.

“Mum would love to have you.” He assured. 

“A-are you sure?” 

He let out a small laugh. 

“Of course. It was her idea.” 

It was true. Fitz had mentioned it to her on the phone the other day, and she’d immediately told him to invite her. Lorna Fitz was thrilled they were together again, properly this time, as she’d said. They did each other good, she’d said. 

“T-that’s so incredibly kind of her.” Jemma spluttered, still in disbelief. 

Fitz grinned, and held out his hand. Jemma wandered over and took it. Fitz wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close, smiling up at her. 

“So, will you come?” He asked softly. 

Jemma leaned down, and took his face into her hands, kissing him gently. 

“Of course I will. Thank you so much for asking.” She whispered with a smile. 

A small laugh escaped Fitz’s lips. Joyful. It was all so utterly joyful. 

They drove up to Glasgow on the twenty third, to spend Christmas Eve with his mum properly. The back seat was filled with presents for his mum and for his wee cousins who would be visiting, and the Christmas songs on the radio seemed endless. The drive itself was so heartwarmingly jubilant and festive, Fitz felt his cheeks ache from smiling so much. He adopted a mockingly deep voice, and sang along to some of the Christmas songs blaring from the radio. It made Jemma laugh, a deep and hearty laugh, his favourite sound. He’d never heard anything better. When they pulled up to the house, it looked as if the fairy light store had thrown up on the house. Every hedge, every tree, every window was lined with candy coloured lights. His mum welcomed them in with open arms and glorious smells coming from the kitchen. She placed a wet kiss on Fitz’s cheek as she pulled them both inside, to which Fitz loudly protested. His heart seemed to melt a bit when he watched as his Mum pulled Jemma into a long, tight hug. 

“Thanks for having me.” He heard Jemma mumble into her shoulder. 

“No problem darlin’. We’re so happy to have you.” Lorna replied, pressing a kiss to Jemma’s cheek too, before letting her go. 

Happy. He was so incredibly happy. 

Christmas day dawned bright and crisp. Waking up to Jemma in his arms, her curled around him in his tiny little bed, was the perfect way to start. Presents and bacon sandwiches soon became the order of the morning, before they were invaded by the rest of the family. Fitz only slightly grumbled when his Mum wrestled him into a ridiculous Christmas jumper. And then aunties and uncles and cousins all seemed to appear from nowhere, coming in in a kind of festive whirlwind. Fitz’s cousins were all much younger than him, all still in primary school, but he always loved playing around with them.Usually it was his job to keep them entertained whilst their mum’s sorted dinner, but this year he had Jemma to help him. She dove right in, a little hesitant at first, but they were sweet little kids, and they made it easy. They joined in as they played with their new toys and it warmed Fitz’s heart to see Jemma getting on so easily with the rest of his family. For Christmas dinner they all crammed around the tiny kitchen table, elbows knocking as they cut into their turkey. Crackers were pulled, terrible jokes told, and everyone ended up with a colourful hat. Fitz watched with a smile as Jemma took it all in her stride, as she charmed his aunties and granny, and laughed kindly at his uncle’s bad jokes. She was a good sport too, when someone suggested games after dinner, as they always did. Charades and ‘Who Am I?’. Fitz somehow ended up as James Bond, which Jemma found very amusing, but was delighted to find out she was Marie Curie, Fitz’s pick. Jemma slipped away after the games wound down, as Fitz’s granny was dozing in her chair, her cup of tea hanging precariously in her hands, the Doctor Who Christmas Special blaring in the background. Fitz gave her a moment, wondering if it was all maybe a bit much, that she just needed a moment to catch her breath. He found her in his room, pulling on a jumper that his mum had given her. She smiled at him as he peered through the bedroom door. 

“Is-is it too much?” He asked, jerking his head in the direction of downstairs. 

Jemma finished pulling at the sleeves of her jumper, and looked up at him, giving him a warm smile.

“No. No not at all. It’s so lovely. A proper Christmas.” She beamed softly. 

Fitz felt as though his heart would burst. He stepped into the room and sat next to her on the bed, wrapping his arms around her. Jemma snuggled into him, letting out a sigh of pure contentment. 

“Thank you for inviting me.” She mumbled into his chest. 

Fitz smiled, and looked down at her. Their eyes naturally met, deep sea blue sinking into perfect golden brown. 

“No problem. Thanks for coming.” Fitz smiled. 

Jemma leaned up and caught him in a gentle kiss. Every other moment that Fitz had regarded as perfect, looked like garbage in comparison to this one. This, this was perfect, pure and utter happiness. That gentle, happy glow that Fitz always associated with Christmas, combined with Jemma, this happy joyful Jemma, who was running her hand gently across his cheek, made for a moment that Fitz knew he would never ever want to leave. 

They stayed in Glasgow for New Year. Fitz’s mum had promised steak pie on New Year's Day and Fitz had little resistance when it came to his mums cooking. They’d run to the shops to get the last few bits that they’d need for tomorrow. 

“So, what are your plans for the evening?” Lorna asked, as they walked back to the car, laden with shopping bags.

Fitz shrugged.

“Dunno.” 

Part of him just wanted to stay in, have a drink at midnight and go to bed. Lorna rolled her eyes at him dramatically. 

“Well you have to do something! You’re young!” She exclaimed. 

Fitz saw Jemma hold back a smile out of the corner of his eye.

“What are your school pals doing?” Lorna asked. 

“Harry said they were going down the pub.” Fitz replied automatically. 

What he’d neglected to tell his mother was that he’d invited them both when he found out Jemma was staying with them. He knew there’d be no getting out of it if he mentioned that. 

“I’m not sure I can imagine a New Year’s at the pub.” Jemma piped in, wrinkling her nose. 

Thank god for her. Fitz let out a small laugh. But then Jemma’s face fell and he was confused. He followed her gaze, and it all made sense. Mrs Simmons was walking towards them. Instinctively he went to grab for Jemma’s hand, but he couldn’t, they were both carrying bags. The tension became palpable in the air, and Fitz felt as though they moved forward as a group, with pure caution. Lorna broke away from them, and Fitz felt Jemma hovering behind him. Away. He wanted to get away. Both of them, far away from here. From this ugly moment. 

“Hello Diane. Happy new year.” Lorna said, conversationally. 

Mrs Simmons kept walking. Her eyes grazed over Fitz and then hung on Jemma for a moment, before fixing them forward and walking straight past them. Fitz felt ill. Jemma was her daughter. Her  _ daughter _ . He felt rage boil up in him, which was replaced by nerve shattering sadness. They walked in silence back to the car. No one said anything, as if they didn’t talk about it, the unpleasant moment had not occurred at all. Fitz did not want to be the one to bring the moment to reality. They’d placed everything in the boot, and were just about to drive off, when Jemma’s voice came quietly from the back seat. 

“What do people in town think of her?” Jemma asked softly, gazing out the car window.

Fitz couldn’t think what to say. He knew what  _ he _ thought of her. But he knew his emotions, as strong as they were in this moment, would not be useful. Thankfully, he didn’t have to come up with anything. 

“I suppose they think she’s a bit odd. And very foolish.” Lorna replied. 

Fitz knew she was trying her best to be comforting. He wasn’t sure how much comfort there was to be had in this particular situation. Jemma just gave her a small nod in response. 

Jemma went for a walk after they got home. To clear her head, she’d said. Fitz offered to go with her, but she declined. He didn’t exactly blame her. Fitz tried not to worry, but he thought that it was probably ingrained into his DNA to worry about her now. There was nothing he could do to stop it. Relief flooded through him as he heard the sound of the front door. As he stepped into the hallway, as Jemma once again came into view, he tried to detect any sense of worry about her. She looked a bit windswept, but there was no concern in her eyes, no knit in her brow. Fitz let out a small sigh of relief. 

“Your cheeks are red.” He said softly. 

Jemma looked at him, greeting him with a gentle smile. 

“Well, it’s cold outside you see.” She grinned. 

Fitz let out a small laugh. He enjoyed it when she teased him.

“Mum won’t stop bugging me about going out tonight. Do you want to go? We could just stay in. Mum’s going round to her pals, so she’d not know if we told a wee fib?” Fitz sighed. 

It was true. She’d been needling him since Jemma had left, saying it would be good for both of them to get out. Jemma contemplated him for a moment. 

“I wouldn’t mind going out. Might do us some good. If it’s awful we can always leave early?” She suggested. 

Fitz grinned. This was why he loved her. One of many, many, many reasons. 

“Alright then. Mum’ll be thrilled. I wouldn’t put it past her to frog march us to the pub herself.” Fitz smiled.

Jemma laughed.

“No, I dare say she would.” Jemma grinned. 

They walked into the pub hand in hand. Fitz gave Jemma a small reassuring squeeze. They were both nervous. But he wasn’t the one about to walk into a room of people who had taunted her on the daily. She shot him a small smile, and he knew she’d be okay. The place seemed to somewhat erupt as they entered. Harry appeared from nowhere, tackling Fitz into a hug which forced him to drop Jemma’s hand. By the time he let him go, and they’d gone through the usually loud but idle pleasantries, Fitz saw that Jemma had been accosted by Sally and Karen. He jerked his head, and Jemma rejoined him, taking his hand in hers again. It was nice. An anchor in a storm of people. 

At midnight the place exploded. There was barely enough room to move anyway, people were packed in, but it seemed to get tighter in the cheers and shouts that heralded in a new year. Fitz wound his arms around Jemma, forgetting the noise around them. She did likewise, and suddenly it felt as if they were the only two people there, not surrounded by old school friends in a packed pub, but as if it was just the two of them. Fitz gently pulled Jemma closer and their lips found each other. They must have shared hundreds of kisses over the years but still, each one had the ability to set Fitz’s blood alight, to make his head spin deliciously, and to reduce the world to one single entity. Jemma Simmons. 

“I love you.” Fitz whispered, leaning his forehead gently against hers as they pulled apart. 

“I love you too.” Jemma replied, her voice soft. 

Fitz felt as though he could explode with happiness. He captured her lips with his own again, unable to even articulate the pure joy he was feeling. They broke apart, and Jemma tucked her head into his shoulder. Slowly, the world came back to him. The loud chorus of “Auld Lang Syne” began to slowly fill his ears. He felt her breath on his neck and he allowed himself this moment of pure, and utter contentment. This was good. His life was good. So very, very good. 

**April.**

It felt odd being in this flat again. Even stranger now that it was so empty. They’d spent so much time here during first year. Fitz felt his ears burn as he realised they’d probably had sex in every room in the flat. No, he knew they had. But now, Jemma’s old flat was filled with bags and boxes, carpets were rolled up, furniture shoved against the walls. He was glad for the car. Jemma was putting most of her stuff in storage for the summer, and they’d already filled his car twice. They reached a good point to stop for the day, and Jemma had pulled out two mismatched mugs, a kettle and some tea bags. They sat together on the floor of the living room, sipping their tea. Fitz’s eyes wandered about the place, occasionally catching on something with a memory attached to it. A blanket he wrapped around Jemma on a cold night, a coaster he’d once placed a mug on, a notebook from one of Jemma’s first year classes that he remembered her pouring over in the leadup to exams. His eyes finally fell to Jemma, her hands wrapped around her mug of tea, her eyes seemingly making the same journey as his just had. 

“You okay?” He asked softly. 

Jemma turned to him, placed her mug next to her on the floor, and nodded.

“Yeah, I am actually.” She sighed.

Her eyes flitted around the room again. 

“It never really felt like home.” 

Fitz knew what she meant. 

“Didn’t really feel right being here in the first place.” 

Jemma’s eyes began to wander again. Fitz felt something shift in the air. She wanted to say something. Jemma let out a long sigh.

“I’ve been thinking about New York. The offer.” She said quietly.

Oh.  _ Oh.  _ That wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting. It had come up here and there, just briefly over the past few months, but they’d never really  _ discussed  _ it. Fitz would be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking about it.

“W-what about it?” Fitz stammered. 

“I, just, I keep imagining you there Fitz. Working.” Jemma replied softly.

“Mmhm.” Fitz mumbled, fidgeting in his place. 

He’d rather forget the offer existed sometimes. But other times, he didn’t know…

“You’ve been thinking about it.” Jemma said plainly.

It wasn’t a question. Damn. She knew him too well. 

“A-a bit.” He stammered. 

“B-but that doesn’t mean anything Jemma. It’s not like I’ve made a decision or anything or…” He started. 

Their eyes came together in that natural way that they did. 

“It-it just feels too hard Jemma.” Fitz admitted. 

The thought of moving halfway across the world, it was overwhelming. The opportunity was beyond amazing. But he just didn’t know if he could.

“E-everything recently has been hard, o-or an effort, and m-maybe this next year just needs to be straightforward. Easy.” He continued. 

The idea of staying at Cambridge for his masters felt like a relief. Like a weight from his shoulders. He had no idea how he’d manage it. He’d love to do his PhD, but after his masters his scholarship would run out, having cleared his first two years of debt with it too. And the work experience that Stark could give him. Fitz stopped himself from thinking. These thoughts had run around his head a million times already. Jemma reached out and tangled her hand into his.

“There’s been lots of things this year that have been painful and difficult, and you’ve got through it all Fitz. So well. And this would be difficult, yes, but it could be potentially amazing.” She gushed softly.

“Potentially.” Fitz muttered.

Jemma gave his hand a small squeeze. 

“It’s New York Fitz. It’s  _ Stark _ . It would be beyond amazing.” She said.

Her voice carried a line of confidence, that for a moment, made Fitz believe her. 

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe.” Fitz conceded.

A small smile spread across Jemma’s face at his words. One thing had been playing on Fitz’s mind. He hadn’t wanted to ask. It had never felt right. But now seemed to be the time for these sorts of conversations. A time to lay all cards on the table. 

“Would you come with me?” Fitz asked softly.

His heart seemed to catch in his mouth. 

“W-we could be there together, and you could study o-or work?” He stammered. 

The look in her eyes told him it was no use. Jemma gave a small shake of her head, and Fitz felt his heart drop. 

“Why?” 

He heard his voice breaking. 

“I want to stay here. I want to live the life I’m living. My tutor and I, we sat down the other day and we planned everything out. Through my PhD. Everything. Daisy and Bobbi are staying. I-I want this life Fitz. It really is something.” Jemma explained. 

He let out a small laugh, but a tear fell traitorously down his face. Of course. Jemma Simmons had a plan. He should have known. 

“I’m getting better at living it too.” She continued. 

“Yeah, yeah you are.” Fitz agreed. 

It was true. Jemma had been so content since last summer. So happy with her life and her work, in all she was doing. He couldn’t take that away from her. What kind of person would he be if he asked her to give it all up just for him? He sucked in a deep breath, and let it out with his mouth. More tears fell from his eyes. 

“I’d miss you so much Jemma. I’d be sick.” He sobbed. 

“I know. And I you. At first. But it would get better. Things always get better Fitz. With time.” 

The crack in her voice seemed to break him. 

“I-it might only be a year. A year for my masters a-and then I might be able to come back. Study here and work for them in London. If they like me enough they might let me.”

He was spitballing now and he knew it. 

“No. Don’t promise that. You don’t know what the future might bring.” 

Jemma smiled through her tears. 

“Y-you don’t know where either of us will be, o-or what might happen.” 

Fitz couldn’t bear it. He knew where this was going, the conclusion was obvious now, but he just didn’t want to get there, didn’t want to arrive at the end. 

“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.” He said quietly. 

Jemma reached up gently with one of her free hands and wiped the tears coming down his face. 

“No. That’s true.” Jemma said with a small laugh, though tears were falling thickly down her face now too. 

“You’d be somewhere else entirely. You’d be a different person. Me too.” She sobbed. 

It was Fitz’s turn to gently wipe away the tears on her face. 

“But we have done so much good for one another.” Jemma whispered. 

This broke him. The truth of it seemed to ring through him. He would not be himself, nor would Jemma be herself, without each other. Without that presence in his life, he did not know who he would be. Jemma Simmons had changed him irrevocably for the better, and he could never be more grateful for it. 

“You know I love you Jemma. So much. And I’m never going to feel the same about anyone else. Not as long as I live.”

It was the most truthful thing he’d ever said in his entire life.

“I know. I love you too Fitz, more than words can say.” Jemma said softly through her tears. 

He pulled her closer, resting his forehead against hers. Their tears mingled in mid air. Here it was. That ending. The inevitable conclusion.

“I’ll go.” He uttered.

“And I’ll stay.” Jemma replied.

Fitz pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

“ And we’ll be okay.” 

**The End.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of you may be mad that I kept the og ending. It just felt right. I, in a sick kind of way, really love that ending. The open endedness of it all. The possibilities are endless. I did toy around with changing it. I went back and forth so many times. I was going to change it, then I was not, and then I was going to keep the ending but add an epilogue that had them together. But then I decided that I had too much love and respect for that original ending. It is the end of the story I’m telling. One day, MAYBE, I might write a epilogue. I do have an idea of where FitzSimmons end up. As for Connell and Marianne, I don’t actually know. It changes a lot. I do think that ultimately they end up together. I don’t know when that is or how it happens. I just think it does. FitzSimmons, because this is my version of that story, I have a bit more clear cut idea. Maybe. One day. Perhaps.  
> Thank you so incredibly much once again. 
> 
> Skye :)


End file.
